


Eternity

by leonpaladin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonpaladin/pseuds/leonpaladin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[niam magic au]</p><p>Niall Horan is the most boring best friend ever.</p><p>That was Jade's opinion. </p><p>But ever since that snowy day in February, everything has changed. The military has been after him, the government was stalking him,  and monsters have been chasing him around. Oh, and did he mention that some crazed madman is seeking world destruction so he could be immortal for all eternity? Yeah, just your typical everyday life.</p><p>All because he teamed up with a headstrong young magician named Liam Payne -- who may or may not be the villain of the whole thing.</p><p>[Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction, Little Mix, or any real-life character present in this story. Any event or action (sexual, death, etc.) present in the story involving these real-life characters is pure fiction and did not happen.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

In the bitter cold of February, a group of men marched across the countryside — _march, march, march_ , they went — and braced the brittle frosty wind that howled angrily at them. Their dark cloaks flapped mercilessly as they pounded onwards, trekking the knee-deep snow.

They were nearly at the clearing of the forest when another profound gust of wind blew, roaring from the angry sky like an old god, freezing the earth with his archaic breath.

“ _Find_ him,” shouted the tallest in the bunch. He was the one who gave orders — the general, so to say — and his green eyes bore down on the snowy landscape before him. The general brushed away the curly fringes that was blown across his face by the wind with his hand and grimaced. “We shouldn’t have trusted him.”

“Not your fault, sir,” the woman beside him answered with respect. From the side of her belt, she unclipped a pair of binoculars. Through it, she saw small clusters of light in the distance: a small town. “We appear to be approaching the next town, sir.”

The general tucked back his mane of unkempt curly hair into his hat and sighed deeply. He glanced at the woman beside him, his best lieutenant, and gave her a slight nod. The lieutenant, knowing what it meant, shouted loudly as to be heard even through the blizzard: “All agents head for the town and secure the perimeters! By order of Mr. Styles!”

Another blast of wind ensued and blew away the general’s cap, sending it skyward into the darkened, cloudy sky. It felt like a premonition, thought the general, but nevertheless, he shouted with authority and force.

“We move stealthily and ably! Take necessary actions, if needed and possible! Harm no civilians but _find_ Liam Payne!”


	2. The Shadow

**_JADE_ **

****

“ _Oooh_ , what about this one?”

For the third time that evening, Jade Thirlwall had changed her outfit. This time, she twirled around with a white cocktail dress adorned dazzling sequins and rhinestones all over the chest. Socks still on, she leaned against the wall by the rusty old heater and flicked her hands through her hair. “What’dya think?”

Niall Horan, her dearest best friend, just stared at her as he sat on the edge of the bed while munching— _munch, munch, munch_ —on oatmeal cookies that they baked earlier that evening. There was no denying, Niall would agree that Jade looked pretty but honestly, the problem is—

“You look beautiful in _everything_ , Jade,” said Niall. “I can’t decide which—you have to decide for yourself.”

Jade rolled her eyes, plopped down beside Niall on the edge of the bed, and grabbed one of the oatmeal cookies; and Niall knew that his best friend was going to start one of her lectures on how Niall was _boring_.

“You know the difference between you and this cookie?” she asked, crumbs falling off as she shook it at Niall’s face.

Niall shrugged, still chewing on the last cookie he ate. “They’re chewy and delicious while I’m simply adorable?”

“No,” Jade glared at him. “They don’t complain. They get eaten, without their lifespan nearing a day, and you get no complaint from them whatsoever about being devoured by an auspicious human being like yourself, Niall Horan.”

“Just wear the pink one,” groaned Niall. “You said you liked the pink one the most!”

But, as ever, Jade didn’t pass off the opportunity to what she called her _therapy_. She stood up, headed into the bathroom, and came out in her purple jogger pants and blue jumper. Jade took the bowl of oatmeal cookies from Niall and placed it on her study table. Grabbing the nearest pillow, she slammed it onto Niall’s face that made her best friend topple over onto the bed flat on his back. “I shall make you un-boring with these pillows, Mr. Spock!”

“Illogical!” yelled Niall with a giggle.

He grabbed a pillow as well…

And so the pillow fight began. They ran around the room, flailing their floppy down pillows. At one point they began dueling with them like fat, white _lightsabers_. But, alas, a few minutes later, there came a loud knock on the bedroom door and Jade’s mother peeked through.

“Guys, we need to be early tomorrow for the volunteer work,” she said. “Get some sleep — and no more pillow fights. You two aren’t five anymore.”

“Yes, Mrs. Thirlwall,” replied Niall, sneaking one last pillow slam on Jade’s face.

********

**_NIALL_ **

****

The blizzard had died down by the next morning. The snow on the streets have already been cleared and the Saturday morning rush caused traffic at the avenue. Jade had called shotgun in the car so that left Niall alone with the donation boxes in the backseat. They were jamming to some sick Latino tune when they spotted a bunch of cloaked men by the mall. They huddled together in front of the mall, strange rifle-like weapons hanging over their shoulders.

“Is there some comic convention I wasn’t informed of?” commented Niall.

“Army, I think,” replied Mrs. Thirlwall. “Local news earlier this morning said something about them patrolling…”

Jade played with the bobble head garden gnome on the dashboard of the car. “Last time the army was on the news was when that building in Brighton got burned down.”

“Yeah, that one with a weird light,” agreed Niall, leaning back on his seat. “The guys from my calculus class were all saying that it was some cover up for an alien conspiracy. That their space ship landed too close to the town and hit the building.”

Jade stared at Niall disbelievingly. “And you believe that?”

Niall rolled his eyes, grabbed another granola bar, and started munching on it. “I _don’t_. But you gotta admit, it’s weird that the army responded to that and not the fire marshals. And this whole army thing on a snowy day? I’m not buying it either.”

“Well, whatever it is, I think we should stick to our volunteer work instead of putting our heads into some things we don’t understand,” said Mrs. Thirlwall.

She took a sharp turn away from the highway and into one of the main roads that led to the school. Niall glanced back at the mall where all the cloaked men were crowded together, fading away into the distance — but not before he spotted a dark figure heading towards them and then disappearing into the woods.

Niall kept silent the rest of the way to the school. He hoped Jade wouldn’t notice his silence or the fact the he had begun to feel cold as the sight from a few minutes before startled him. She would become worried and Niall wouldn’t hear the end of it until he told her what was bothering him.

Ever since he had started living with them when his parents both died ( _Classic orphan cliché_ , Niall often described it), Jade had kept a close eye on him. So Niall had trained himself to mask whatever has bothered or worried him. Taking him in was enough burden for the Thirlwalls and giving them more problems was not an option.

But something about what he saw really bothered him.

Firstly, he wasn’t one to believe in scary things. Niall believed that there are things in this world that cannot be explained so easily but he doesn’t think it’s those things they see in movies, and he doesn’t think that they mean any harm. But now the thought of the shadow gliding through the snow and then zapping into the woods made his skin crawl.

Second, he didn’t _know_ what he saw. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him; that can happen sometimes. It was cloudy and the car was moving, not to mention he was still sleepy, so perhaps he saw nothing but just his imagination.

But lastly, he was getting this bad feeling. It wasn’t that crummy feeling that you get when you’re about to take a test and you forgot to study — no, this was genuine bad premonition. Like there was something about to happen and Niall was sure it wasn’t going to be sunshine and butterflies. Whatever that thing was — if there ever _was_ a thing — Niall didn’t want it to become a reality.

The weather wasn’t helping either. Dark clouds have gathered overhead, looming over the town like it was about to bring down something ferocious. The wind had picked up strength as well, blowing away snow over the streets and houses. Everything was either pale white — the snow, the painted houses, and the fading morning sky — or dubious black — the tree trunks, the pathways and roads, and the clouds in the sky — and the rest had their colors dimmed, their vibrancy sucked out of them.

Mrs. Thirlwall took another curve and the woods faded away, becoming thinner and thinner until they were in the moorish flatlands of nothing but endless fields of white. The houses in the neighborhood were a mixture of bigger and grander, and flat-out dingy, dilapidated Victorians. Before Niall could critique more of the houses, they drove into the school parking lot.

Castleton Middle School had three three-storied buildings that had over two acres of property fenced in: a large bell tower at its peak with a garden lagoon below it was in the middle building; on the left side of the school grounds was Croaker Hall where the science and math departments reside — and also where the function room for the charity auction was being held which Niall and the Thirwalls were attending; while on the right side was for the languages department and also the school library; and at the back end of the property was the gymnasium which most students thought to be haunted.

The function room was already full of people when they arrived. After giving their donation boxes, Jade and Mrs. Thirlwall went off to look around and so Niall decided to do the same.

As he walked around, he noticed a hooded figure who seemed to be following him around. He wouldn’t be too concerned about it if he hadn’t seen that dark shadow but Niall couldn’t push away the bad feeling he was getting. Deep in his thoughts he hardly contained the low shriek he gave off when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Is this yours?”

Niall turned around and it was the hooded figure that was following him around. The figure took off its hood and it was apparently a lad just about his age. The lad fixed his salt-and-pepper hair, smiled, and handed to Niall a handkerchief.

Niall blushed upon realizing how weird he must’ve looked like when all the lad was trying to do was give him back his handkerchief. He stared at it for a moment before deciding to take it.

“Thanks,” said Niall.

“ _Leave_ ,” he heard the lad whisper.

Niall looked up and wanted to scream but, oddly, he couldn’t — not even with the horrifying sight in front of him. His voice had deserted him, perhaps as horrified as he was with what he had come face to face with: The lad’s face had turned milky white and his flesh was rotting at some parts; his mouth was purple with splatters of dark red stains on them; and what was worst was his empty eye sockets, hollow with his eyeballs missing.

“ _You are in danger, Niall Horan_ ,” said the lad, his voice hoarse and echoing. “ _Leave now. Hurry._ ”

There was an explosion and the chilly winter air came blasting into the room. Distracted, Niall roamed his sight around the room: people were screaming, papers were flying around the room, and there was a large hole in the wall by the door. Niall looked back at the lad but he had vanished into thin air. From his peripheral he could see that someone was getting closer to him. He looked and there he saw it — the dark shadow from the woods.

“OI! ARE YOU A _FUCKING_ IDIOT?!” someone shouted.

A large fireball came hurling towards the shadow and exploded as soon as it made contact. The shadow wailed in despair, lashing out its black, scythe-like arms madly across the room. The fire encircled the shadow and formed walls of flame around it. The more the shadow tried to break free, the fiercer and hotter the flames became.

Niall suddenly remembered Jade and Mrs. Thirlwall. He was about to make a sprint when somebody grabbed him. He almost toppled over, and his ears would’ve groaned at the intensity of his mystery grabber.

“Why did you come here?!”

The person in front of him who was holding him tightly by the shoulders, hissing venomously, and shaking him violently was just a little bit older than he was: brown hair an unkempt mess and a faint stubble across his face; the scar on his bottom lip that was hard to miss; most of all, the calculating stare of his dark chocolate eyes were hard to forget.

There was something in his demeanor that left Niall speechless; it turned him into a little child that just wet himself in his nappy. “I-I don’t…understand—”

“Of course, you don’t,” growled the man, “You’re an idiot!”

Niall was appalled. “Excuse me—!”

“ _Whatever_ , mortal,” said the man. “Anyway, you should come with me.”

“And why should I?!” Niall jerked his hands away.

“Because—”

There was a loud scream from the crowd. Niall’s eyes trailed around the hall, his ears were straining to find the source of the sound. From the billows of smoke, Niall could see the shadow taking someone with it. It flailed as the black tendrils of the shadow wrapped around its waist. Someone with colored hair and a pink skirt—

 _Shit_.

“JADE!” shouted Niall.

It had always been an instinct—an inevitable part that has been hardwired into his senses. His muscles coiled, ready to spring into action, but the man forcefully kept him stagnant. Their faces were close enough that Niall just wanted to spit on it just to make it clear that he was already infuriated by his presence.

The man, however, was much persistent. “Come with me and I’ll help save your friend!”

Niall struggled. “Let me go!”

He could hear Jade screaming as the shadow glided out of the building at a fast pace. All that was left was dust and rubble, and chaos ensued thereafter. People were screaming all around but their noises were drowned by the man’s enthralling presence.

“You can trust me, Niall Horan.”

Niall stopped squirming and stared at him. “You know my—?”

“Later,” the man insisted. And then he deviously grinned, annoying Niall even more. “The name’s Liam Payne, by the way.”


	3. The Mage's Bane

**_NIALL_ **

Niall and Liam dashed through the smoke—a haze that tasted like tar and smelled like acrid rain. If this whole rescue thing wasn’t important (and if this Liam fellow wasn’t of any help), Niall would’ve complained at how tightly Liam had his arm wrapped around his waist.

 _Pervert_ , thought Niall.

The shadow’s trail was sticky and moist under their shoes, almost something that the trail a snail would leave behind. It smelled as pungent as the smoke the shadow created.

They quickly reached the outside and was greeted by a blast of cold wind. Niall shivered as it seeped through his pores: icy devils that made his blood run thick and gooey. Liam, however, didn’t mind the cold — and Niall could actually _feel_ him warming up the cold air as it rushed past them.

“What was that _thing_?” Niall couldn’t help but ask.

“A _djinn_ ,” replied Liam.

“A _what_?!”

Liam rolled his eyes, muttering off something in a language Niall couldn’t understand—but it sounded offending. “ _Gods_ , you mortals,” he grumbled. “A _djinn_ —or a _djinni_. And no, it’s not the one in _Aladdin_ ; these things don’t grant wishes. They’re sort of like lower-ranked angels, yeah, something like that. They can take on human form, possess a mortal, or look like the one you just saw.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” said Niall.

“Of course, you don’t,” Liam replied while pulling out some small vial from inside his coat and slipping a piece of rolled paper inside. “Things like these are kept hidden for millennia. Otherwise, you lousy humans would worship them like gods. Last time they’ve shown themselves, the Egyptians thought they were deities.”

“Still _not_ making any sense.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” snorted Liam, stashing away the vial again. “What you have to know is that those things are dangerous. They eat other creatures and sometimes just kill them for sport.”

Niall paled. “Jade…”

“We won’t let that happen to your friend,” said Liam with an assuring tone. “I won’t let that happen.”

Niall chuckled. “What are you, some kind of monster hunter?”

“I’m a sorcerer.”

Niall tried to hold back his laughter but failed. But Liam didn’t seem offended by it. He simply grabbed Niall’s hand and the lad gasped: When Liam touched his skin, it was like electricity buzzed through it; a tremendous amount of pressure was surging through his body and it felt like it was going to explode at any moment. He wanted to scream but the surge subdued to a tingling sensation that coursed through his spine, euphoria and power making him feel lightweight and inviolable.

Blinking twice, Niall noticed that Liam was staring at him.

“Doesn’t feel cold anymore, does it?” asked Liam smugly.

Niall blushed.

“N-No…not so much.”

Liam was still holding his hand.

The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a curious human. There are rosebud stains on your cheeks whenever I look at you…and talk to you. Is that normal?”

Niall jerked his hand away. “It’s probably the cold. I have pale skin.”

“I see,” replied Liam, unable to hold back his smile. He waved his hand around in the air and motioned like grabbing something. Out of nothing, a navy blue parka materialized into his hand. Liam handed it to Niall. “Here you go. For the…cold.”

“You—” Niall was speechless, rather simply stuttering with his mouth agape. “You pulled this thing out of thin air!” He ran his hands all over the jacket, still not being able to believe that it was real.

“Well, you didn’t seem impressed when I told you I was a sorcerer,” said Liam excitedly. “So I guessed that in order to make you believe, sight is more appropriate than faith.”

A screech resounded from somewhere, then a loud shrill.

“LIAM PAYNE—STEP AWAY FROM THAT MAN!”

The army-from-outside-the-mall were rallying towards the school, scattering all over the parking lot with their SUVs and large jeeps. They piled up in organized fashion, each soldier bearing a stoic expression.

On top of one of the cars, holding a black megaphone, was a well-dressed man in charcoal black; his coat waved ravenously as the wind blew and so did his curly brown mane—the general. A woman stood beside him, silently stalking the surroundings with her eyes through her binoculars. Standing tall amidst the soldiers, the general’s stance remained stagnant until he lifted his arms and pointed at Niall and Liam.

“Young man,” he said; the megaphone screeched again but he didn’t seem to mind, “that individual is dangerous. Kindly step away—are you being held hostage in any way?”

“Tell him what happened,” Liam whispered as he leaned over to Niall.

“ _Don’t brainwash him, Payne!_ ” growled the general.

“Are you really dangerous?” asked Niall.

“I kinda pissed them off, that’s all,” replied Liam with a shrug. “But the judgment is up to you. Believe him, turn me over, and have your friend become monster breakfast, or you can trust that I’m not evil and just here to help.”

Liam smirked. “Your choice, Niall—all yours.”

Niall took a moment to take in everything.

So, basically, the _thing_ he saw following their car was real, it kidnapped Jade, some sorcerer named Liam Payne saved him from being shadow snack and has offered to save Jade, and now the military was here saying that Liam was dangerous.

Okay, so not exactly how he imagined his day would go.

What if the military was right and Liam was the bad guy? What if, when they get past these soldiers and reach the shadow creature, the two were actually in league with each other and he and Jade become food? But what if Liam was his only hope in saving Jade? What if he turn Liam in and the military are unable to save Jade in time? Was this worth the risk?

Niall sighed and leered sternly at Liam.

“Swear on it.”

Liam’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“You’re a sorcerer, right?” asked Niall.

Liam nodded.

“Then let’s make a deal. You swear on it—do some kind of spell or ritual or something—that if you turn on me, you’ll suffer too, got it? I’m not taking any chances that you’re an evil mastermind.”

“Oh, Niall Horan…” Liam smirked, grabbing Niall’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Everyone has a little evil in them. And, honestly,” Liam got up close, their noses almost brushing, “you’re too precious to betray.”

A bright yellow circle appeared underneath their feet; strange scribbled symbols etched themselves onto the melting snow, crackling like embers in a burning fire pit. Within him, Niall could feel that warm, surging feeling again—like he was gonna burst like a supernovae—and it was rushing through his veins, trickling down to his fingertips.

Liam closed his eyes and chanted in the same language he was muttering offending words before, his voice shifting from soft to thunderously loud. It didn’t feel cold at all, like the air around them heated up within the circle. The icy wind swirled around them, and Niall could barely hear what the man in the coat was screaming at them.

Niall felt a stinging sensation on the back of his hand: A circle just like the one on the ground etched itself onto his skin.

“The Mage’s Bane,” explained Liam, his eyes now open and smiling. “Within you now is one of the most ancient spells that I know of—inviolable, binding, and powerful. Anything I can inflict on you shall be inflicted on me as well…and also some other perks.”

“LIAM PAYNE! COME QUIETLY OR WE SHALL BE COERCED TO USE FORCE!” the general yelled through his megaphone.

Liam glanced at the army in front of them, took a peek at Niall, and then smirked. He raised his arms up well above his ears. “Wanna see some more magic?”

Niall tried to look casual when he nodded. Liam’s airy personality was infuriating but something about his aura, his power, was addicting and attractive. He didn’t want Liam to think he was like some dewy-eyed school girl throwing themselves on every pretty boy they found.

Liam shouted mightily in a strange language and a surge of force ran through the ground. It trembled for a moment then became completely still.

The snow began to clump together— _thump, thump, thump,_ faster and faster—until it rounded up; the snow balls began rolling and stacking on top of each other, forming and molding themselves into arms, legs, and heads. Soon enough, there were as much as the army men; some were as tall as humans while others were as tall as the trees.

“Snowmen?” Niall said, confused.

“ _Immortal_ snowmen,” corrected Liam.

“So they can’t die? Like zombies?” asked Niall.

“ _No_ ….and yes,” insisted Liam. “If you try to destroy them—chop them up or melt them—they form right back as if nothing happened.”

“Cool.” Niall bit his lower lip. “But it’s just a distraction, right? You won’t…kill them or anything?”

“I’ve never killed a human before, Niall Horan,” assured Liam. “And I won’t start now.”

The snowmen rallied towards the soldiers at a quick pace, trashing them around and hurling gigantic snowballs at their cars and jeeps. One of the soldiers charged at the snowmen only to get blasted far away in the snowy grounds. As soldiers tried to eradicate the immortal, supernatural ice forms, more and more of them rose from the ground.

Snowballs zipped through the air like sphere bullets and fiery tongues of flame blasted from the soldiers’ weapons. But every time the snowmen melted, from their puddle formed two more.

The woman beside the general stashed away the binoculars and unlatched from her belt a pair of metal sticks. She jumped down from the jeep and onto one of the unsuspecting snowmen. As more thundered towards her, from one end of the sticks she was holding came out electric beams of light that droned as she slashed through the snowmen, cutting them down in half. The other end hissed out a bluish gas that froze the puddle of melted snowmen into solid ice.

The general dodged agilely a particularly large snowball that was thrown at him, jumped down from the jeep, and pulled out a small round stick from his belt. From it came out a blazing fire that disintegrated the snowmen that attacked him. The general whipped his weapon around, melting five snowmen in one swoop. His eyes scanned around and locked onto Niall and Liam. He ran towards them, slashing his flamethrower around on all the charging snowmen.

“PAAAYYYNNNEEE!!” he roared.

“Oops…” Liam grabbed Niall around the waist. “Looks like it’s time for us to go!”

“Wha—?”

In the blink of an eye, Niall felt his guts getting crushed together like it was jelly; he felt like everything inside him was going to pop, everything on his body was starting to get numb. The world around him was shrinking, coiling into a rotating swirl. There was a loud _zap_ and the two of them disappeared from where they were standing.

********

Once Niall regained sensation of his feet plunging into the ankle-deep snow, he staggered and Liam caught him by the arm. He noticed Liam was smiling at him and Niall quickly composed himself, hoping he wasn’t blushing again.

“What’s so funny?” asked Niall.

Liam shook his head. “Nothing, just… Most people usually throw up during their first time experiencing teleportation.”

“Can’t imagine why…” muttered Niall.

Beyond them was a meadow of nothing but white. In the open field, the icy wind had only gained strength, blowing away Niall’s hair and blurring his vision; but he didn’t feel cold. There was a cool sensation on his skin — especially on his face — where the wind touched him bare but underneath the parka he was wearing, heat circulated like he was standing next to a heater.

“There’s a forest nearby,” said Liam. Niall squinted his eyes but all he could see were dark, blurry silhouettes in the distance. “That could be where the djinn took your friend.”

“Where are we anyway?” asked Niall.

“Outskirts of town,” answered Liam. “A few miles from your school, a few miles from those persistent people. Come, we haven’t got much time.”

They treaded through the snow and towards the frozen forest, following the same trail of slime that the djinn had left. As they drew nearer, the winds have began to die down and Niall could see clearly the bare, leafless trees that were like enchanted wooden skeletons. Their branches and pale tendrils of wood crawled upwards to the sky as if they were praying to an ancient god.

Upon entering into the forest, the trees towered above them. Frozen fractals and icicle stalactites pointed downwards to the snowy forest grounds. More and more the blizzard calmed into non-existence and the clouds tore open like veils to reveal the sun behind them. Sunlight was cast into the florian skeletons and their icy appendages, appearing transparent and shiny.

The deeper they went, the lesser Niall felt safe. The skeleton trees disappeared and faded into the lush pines, their needle-like leaves felt like tiny fingers poking onto his parka. Liam seemed to have noticed and placed an arm around Niall and pulled him closer.

“About the Mage’s Bane…” Liam started.

Niall looked at him. “What about it?”

“It doesn’t just seal the deal with you,” explained Liam. He brushed away a low-hanging branch and snow dusted lightly on his shoulders. The snow quickly melted. “It lent you some of my powers. Temporarily, of course. But not all of it…just some things I thought would be helpful.”

“Such as?”

“The heat thing. You don’t feel so cold now, do you?” Niall nodded. “The snow melts as soon as it touches your skin. It is sort of like an internal heating system: It flourishes around your body like an aura—and it _is_ an aura. And also, I lent you some strength.”

Niall’s eyebrows furrowed. “Strength?”

“Yes, I increased it.”

“What, I’m like Superman now?”

Liam chuckled. “No. It’s just for safety reasons. You should learn to defend yourself.”

“I _know_ how to defend myself.”

“From bullies perhaps,” replied Liam. He knelt down on the ground and touched the slimy trail that was slowly freezing. “But there are far more dangerous things in life than insecure teenagers who vent their frustrations out on others. Such as the one we are pursuing now.”

“You said you never killed a person before,” said Niall. “Have you killed things besides humans?”

Liam stood up, his expression was like a stone. “Yes.”

Niall looked away. He shouldn’t have asked. “I’m sorry if— _god_ , that was a stupid—I think that might have been a little offensive—”

“No,” insisted Liam. His face had softened and a hint of a smile returned to his lips. “You should know things like that. We’re temporarily bonded by contract after all. But know this, and I’ve said it before…”

Liam laced his fingers with Niall’s. There was something in his eyes as he stared at Niall — something that looked like a plea or desperation — and it made him look fragile, vulnerable, and broken. “I will never hurt you, Niall Horan. Trust me on that.”

“I’m afraid I can’t trust you that much yet,” replied Niall, “but I’d stake my life that you would honor your promise. I feel _that_.”

Suddenly, the heated hands around his own had disappeared and was replaced with a charming smile. “I can work with that, Niall Horan.”

“This isn’t a roll call. Stop saying my last name and just call me Niall.”

“You said you didn’t trust me yet,” explained Liam. “So I’ll continue using your last name until you’ve decided to have some little faith in me.”

There was a loud rumble from deep within the forest. Niall quickly jerked his hand upwards, feeling a sting on where the circular mark was on the back of his hand. It was glowing hot ember red, flickering like an apparition. “My hand—”

“We’re close,” said Liam. “I forgot to tell you, that mark is kind of like a radar too. Whenever it glows, it means a creature is nearby.”

“Do _you_ have a mark like this?”

“Yeah, on my right shoulder. It’s a brand that was seared there when I became a sorcerer.” Liam patted the area near his shoulder bone. “It’s stinging like yours is so I know that the thing that took your friend is nearby.”

There was a rustling above the canopy and Liam pulled Niall with him lower to the ground. Snow fell down to the earth in large clumps— _thud, thud, splat_ —and the rustling intensified, branches falling off without warning, until it halted. The silence was eerily unpleasant with only the low howl of the wind coming from outside and above the forest.

“What’s happening?” asked Niall.

“ _Shhhh_ …”

Loud cracking sounds echoed throughout the area and one by one the trees came toppling down and crashed to the ground. A great whirl of wind blasted onto the forest floor and Liam quickly reacted, shielding Niall away underneath his body. As the snow settled back down, a large area of the forest had been cleared off and the canopy disappeared, revealing the gray, sulky sky above.

A whispering voice resounded, speaking in a language that Niall could not understand. Still wrapped under Liam, Niall could feel Liam’s muscles tense and coil, like a wild animal anticipating an attack from a predator. He could hear the low growl from Liam’s throat and Niall felt strangely safe and scared at the same time. Scared because he doesn’t know what was happening, and safe because of the warmth spreading around him like an aura that came from Liam.

Then, he heard it.

 _So the little_ brat _is here. You should’ve stayed on your leash._

“Where’s the girl?” said Liam, the timbre of his voice was low and ominous.

Cackling sounds bounced around the clearing, a slithering noise buzzed around as if something was circling them. Niall could feel the mark on his skin stinging harder and it was burning brightly as well.

_She does seem tasty. Maybe you want to…share?_

From out of the forest, a large shadow made its way into the clearing; its six scythe-like hands cutting off the trees like they were butter. Its face shifted like a television set on static but it was shaped like the head of a bird—beaks, crown, and feathers—that fizzled every second. It turned around in a full circle until it locked onto Liam and Niall; and Niall could feel his stomach drop.

The shadow had three bright, bloody crimson eyes that rotated around as if they were floating in a fluid. The eyes bobbed in the shadow’s head until they froze and quickly turned, beaming down on them. As the shadow towered over them, its head ripped open near the bottom, revealing a set of stained, jagged teeth.

_Liam Payne, you shall die._

Niall heard Liam whisper something into his ear just before he threw a large fireball at the shadow, before the shadow shrieked in pain and whooshed one of its scythe-like arms at Liam, sending him flying to the nearest tree:

“ _Run._ ”


	4. The Nest

**_NIALL_ **

Niall was frozen on the spot.

Right after Liam hit the tree, it split into two, toppling over the nearest one. He quickly stood up and zipped through the debris, hurling another fireball at the shadow. The shadow swooped down one of its scythes and Liam ducked to dodge it. Liam let out a roar and his whole body was ablaze. His fist landed onto one of the arms, punching the shadow with incredible force, then wrapping his hand around and—

_SQUELCH!_

The shadow howled in pain as Liam ripped one of its arms apart and hurling it onto the snowy ground. It cursed loudly, clamored ferociously in a strange, dead language.

_I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU!_

The shadow twisted around and dived into the snow to douse the fire that coated it. It rose up and towered over Liam but the sorcerer jumped up, forming an orb of fizzling electricity and then slamming it onto one of the shadow’s eyes. The eye exploded and red splattered all over the surrounding trees and onto the ground.

 _I don’t care what the Dark Man thinks! I’ll kill you, feed on you and your little pet right there!_ the shadow gritted.

“Niall Horan, why aren’t you running?!” shouted Liam, wiping away the dripping blood from his forehead with his arm. He waved his hand and a wall of fire surrounded the shadow. Liam ran towards Niall and shook him out of his frozen state. “Find your friend…”

“But—”

“Don’t be scared,” said Liam.

“I’m not,” replied Niall.

Liam smiled. “Good. Now, go! I’ll handle this beast.”

Niall wanted to say something but Liam was already dashing back towards the shadow. It lashed one of its scythes at Liam but he ordered the boulders to block its path, hurling them at the shadow and landing one onto its face. Liam snapped his fingers and the air around them started to squeeze the shadow, compressing it further and further.

Running as fast as he could deeper into the forest, Niall didn’t know what happened next. All he heard as he dashed through the pines were the roars of both the shadow and of Liam, the explosions that no doubt Liam concocted, and the sound of trees crashing to the ground. As he went farther away, he was starting to feel colder, like being away from Liam was cutting away the life line of the heat. Niall jogged slowly as the foliage got thicker.

In the silence, Niall felt himself chuckle. If you thought about it, this was supposed to be just another boring day in his life. Not that he was complaining, not that life with the Thirlwalls was bland either. But a detour like this from the usual habit and routine was both a refreshing start and a scary thing to face. Niall felt like this was some teenage version of a midlife crisis, only he wasn’t balding and he wasn’t twice divorced.

Then he wondered if his parents ever went through anything like this. They died when he was just eight and back then thoughts about life weren’t something an eight year-old would bother himself with. He had T.V., homework, and action figures for that. Mrs. Thirlwall was his mother’s childhood friend though and yet she has never once brought up the topic of Niall’s parents, even avoiding the topic altogether whenever she got the chance.

The ground shook and Niall paused for a moment. Liam was out there, fighting these _djinns_ and having the adventure of his life. It made Niall wonder what he wanted in his life. This complete stranger was saving strangers’ lives all for the sake of it. What about him? Niall wondered what he could offer this world.

A few minutes into his jog, the air around him grew dense. It wasn’t getting colder but it felt thicker in his lungs, like there was something pressing hard on his chest. The dim sunlight was eventually lost as Niall ventured further into the foliage; there were only slight traces of it in the canopy above.

Niall halted as he felt something move behind him. He wanted to look but he felt it slither away fast. Just as the mark on the back of his hand started to flicker and sting, something moved above him and Niall felt a sharp blow on his back and he crashed onto the snowy ground.

_My, my, what do we have here? To whom do I owe the pleasure, my lovely dinner?_

Niall got up and out of the darkness came out a shadow just like the one from before. But this one was wearing a white mask that had a long, beak-like nose, mouth that has been sewn shut, and black, hollow eyes. Its black, bony fingers reached out towards Niall and slowly tried to touch him. As its finger grazed over Niall’s skin, however, it caught on fire and made the shadow withdraw its hand.

 _So you bear the mark of the flame. The mark of that_ brat. The shadow encircled him, going around him like he was pacing about as he spoke. _Tell me, are you his pet? He really does have exquisite taste but, more often than not, he usually plays with his food…before he eats it._

“I made a deal with him,” said Niall, raising his arm to show the mark on his hand.

 _The Mage’s Bane? Feh._ The shadow didn’t seem impressed. _You made a deal with the devil, child. And the devil is a liar._

Niall followed the shadow’s round pacing. “Speak for yourself.”

The shadow stopped and then chuckled. It pointed its spiny finger at Niall. _I’m not in the mood to argue, child. But believe me when I say that you don’t_ know _who Liam Payne is._

“I don’t,” replied Niall. “But I’m taking my chances.”

 _Your stubbornness shall be your downfall, child._ The shadow paced away from him, slowly sinking back into the darkness. _And the way he has charmed himself into your heart makes it far more tragic._

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Niall, slowly crouching and getting ready to defend himself.

The shadow’s voice rumbled as if it was chuckling. _Then you will die braver than most souls._ Slinking farther from Niall, the shadow brushed past the trees, its shape fizzling as it passed through the trunks.

_Do you know that our blood is so powerful, some would drink it, consume us entirely, in order to gain incredible strength and abilities?_

Niall’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”

 _The face underneath the mask isn’t always the same_. The shadow disappeared into the darkness and only his voice echoed through the forest. Niall felt like it was everywhere, like it was watching him in a full three-sixty degree view. _And a sly wolf is covered in fleece, awaiting to devour its prey._

Out of nowhere, the shadow — the masked djinn — appeared to be hovering above him, its bony fingers clawed out to grab him. It swooped down but Niall ducked and the djinn missed him by a few inches. The djinn flew up again and dove back down with a shrilling screech.

Niall felt his heart race as he dodged it once again and ran around. He hid behind one of the trees but the masked djinn spotted him and lurched forward, slashing at him. Though it missed him again, the tree he was hiding behind was cut in half, crashing loudly down to the ground.

Was this how he was gonna die? Oh, what’s his tombstone gonna be like? Probably some tragic-sounding nursery rhyme:

_Here lies Niall Horan—_

_an act quite hard to follow;_

_He tried to fight with all his might_

_but was eaten by a shadow._

Then he remembered what Liam said.

 _Give it up, child. There’s nowhere you can run_ , the djinn sneered.

Niall stood up and raced towards the center. “Who said I was running?” He clenched his fists and slowly positioned himself, a visible smirk on his lips.

The masked djinn laughed. _The bravery of you mortals—bravery as the kind word nonetheless for stupidity._

Screeching as it pounced towards Niall, the djinn bared its bony, sharp fingers at the lad. Niall twisted his body and slammed an uppercut onto the djinn’s face. The mask cracked loudly as Niall’s knuckles sunk onto them, and the shadow flew backwards and onto one of the pine trees.

_SNEAK!!_

The masked djinn squealed and dove towards Niall again.

Niall ducked and felt the djinn’s fingers just barely scrapping through his scalp. Landing another punch, this time on the djinn’s midsection, the masked djinn staggered backwards and crashed onto the ground. As the djinn attacked again, Niall leaped up and slammed his right foot onto its mask. Half of the mask fell away, revealing a black, eyeless space behind it.

This was never gonna work, thought Niall. All he was doing was delaying the djinn from killing him but it wasn’t doing any damage. He thought about those fireball things and those spells Liam was doing. Could he do those? It probably took _years_ for Liam to master those…

As Niall continued to block and return solid punches at the djinn, he felt his body wearing down. His fists were going numb and he was slowly catching his breath. Soon enough, his knees were starting to give. And after blocking another attack, the djinn gained the upper hand and sent Niall flying across the forest.

 _You see? Do you see now, child?_ The masked djinn hovered over Niall as he laid motionless on the snowy forest floor. _It is futile to fight. Nothing in this world is worth fighting for._

Niall’s head was spinning, his temple throbbed hard as he struggled underneath the masked djinn.

 _Was_ there nothing in this world worth fighting for? He thought of his parents: his memories of them might not be much but there were people who knew them well, knew and told of the wonderful things they did when they were alive; then there were the Thirlwalls: they could’ve just left Niall to be an orphan in the system but still, for some reason, they treated him as their own; and then there’s Liam: he was a complete stranger ready to sacrifice his life, willing to offer his strength for others he barely knew.

They had reasons to fight, reasons to keep fighting on in this world. All were different but they were all fighting. Whether it was for change or for self-preservation, they remained steadfast to their cause.

“Y-You’re wrong,” Niall struggled to say. He was slowly feeling cold, the life from him was gradually draining. He forced his eyes to stay open but his vision was starting to blur and darken. “There _are_ things in this world worth fighting for.”

Darkness sluggishly consumed Niall’s sight. He waited to feel the final blow…

But couldn’t feel anything.

Flames enveloped his vision—the masked djinn was slowly being consumed by fire; it was screaming and lashing at something—or someone—obscured from Niall’s view. Something kicked the djinn out of sight, something that dashed over him. There was a lot of screaming but all Niall could see was the dark canopy of the forest and the snow that was slowly drifting downwards.

Niall’s body was starting to feel numb. He couldn’t move his arms nor his legs; he had been paralyzed onto the spot and he could feel a soft chill brushing within him. Maybe this was how dying felt like: a lullaby that moved achingly slow across one’s body and soul. He felt it eating him inside out like a bitter frost that glaciated over his body.

“I’m sorry…” Niall whispered.

He didn’t know to whom, he didn’t know why. He just felt like he owed something, someone an apology for dying like this.

“ _No_ ,” answered a familiar voice, “I don’t accept that.”

Niall felt something touch his lips, something soft and warm. It spread throughout his body like wildfire and like a blaze that was fast to consume, the cold was quickly dispelled. The mark on the back of his hand started to prick, like burning embers brought back to life.

As his vision cleared, he was greeted by chocolate brown eyes that were laced with something golden. They moved farther and Liam’s face came into view. He was smiling. Niall never really realized how handsome he was.

“Idiot,” said Liam. “We made a deal, right? I’m not gonna let you die on me easily.”

Niall sat up, hands pressing hard onto the melting snow. He felt warm again, the coldness becoming a distant memory. The aura that flickered around him has returned and he could breathe easily, see easily—enough to see Liam’s bloody face.

“You’re bleeding!” said Niall, eyes wide open.

“That’s…” Liam hesitated and began to wipe away the blood around his mouth and on his lips. He looked Niall in the eye and heaved a heavy sigh. “That’s not my blood.”

Niall tasted a metallic tang on his lips where Liam breathed something into him. It was bitter and sour at the same time, a condensation of horrible flavors that made him want to throw up. Though the warm aura flowed around him, Niall felt a chill run down his skin. Was that the shadow’s blood?

The masked djinn… The blood… Liam’s magic…

 _You don’t know who Liam Payne is_ , the masked djinn’s voice echoed in his head.

“You—”

“ _Niall Horan_ ,” Liam pleaded.

“You,” Niall swallowed, “didn’t eat it, right?”

Liam’s eyes looked away. “I—look, Niall Horan—”

“Did you _eat_ it?” pressed Niall.

Niall saw it break: something inside Liam’s eyes broke, the golden flecks muddled by the fearing brown. In a raspy voice, Liam knelt closer to him.

“Yes.”

Horrible thought ran through Niall’s mind, every scenario more daunting than the last. Maybe the army was right and he was wrong all along: Liam _was_ dangerous. Perhaps hidden underneath that veil of charm and wit was a demon just like the two shadows before just waiting for the perfect victim, a wolf in sheep’s clothing stalking its prey like the hunter that it is.

While Niall’s thoughts ran wild, the mark on the back of his hand sparked and stung as he felt Liam’s touch on his skin. Niall could feel Liam’s power once again surging through his veins. It was burning him inside out and yet it felt good…

The voice inside Niall’s head sneered. _You made a deal with the devil. And the devil is a liar, Niall Horan._

“ _No!_ ” Niall jerked his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

Liam tried to grab him by the arm.

“Niall Horan, please, listen—”

“Stay away from me!” shouted Niall. “ _You’re_ just like _them_!”

There went a flame inside Liam’s eyes—was it anger, or was it conviction?

“I am _not_!” Liam shouted back.

Niall tried to get up but Liam was quicker in grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him onto the ground, Liam hovering above him.

“ _Listen to me_ ,” it came out more like a snarl, “I won’t hurt you. I made a deal with you, Niall Horan. This isn’t some zippy-doodah that I conjured out of thin air like that jacket! This is _old_ binding magic, which means whatever I did, I put my heart and soul into it—literally! My own life is at stake if I hurt you or fail to protect you. Do you understand that?!”

Niall was staring wide-eyed at Liam. With every word that Liam said, Niall felt a wave of emotion, a flux of vulnerability from this young sorcerer hovering over him. He literally could feel Liam’s heart and soul gushing in his blood vessels.

“Why?” whispered Niall.

“Wh—why what?”

Niall swallowed thickly. “Why do you want to protect me?”

“I—” Liam’s ears turned pink. “I just do.”

“That’s not a reasonable answer.”

“I just do, Niall Horan. Believe me.”

 _The way he has charmed himself into your heart makes it far more tragic,_ the voice laughed.

They stared at each other, watching as the dim light from the canopy shed them with dancing shadows all over their skin. Niall noticed, beyond the patches of drying blood, Liam’s skin—a mixture of pale and tanned that neither one or the other—and the faint scars and scrapes on his cheeks and neck. There were probably more all over his body (and Niall was too embarrassed to imagine what they would look like and _where_ they were) and it was a clear sign of how Liam’s life was not an easy one. His strength and foolhardy nature made him hard to trust, but when he speaks it was a whole kind of alluring.

Liam had a charisma, a certain charm that made him both formidable and relatable. It made you question whether you will trust the man or not.

 _And will I?_ Niall asked to himself.

How certain was he that Liam won’t kill him, maybe not today but in the near future? The words of the djinn was striking fear and confusion, and Niall wished he never heard it—never heard about Liam not being who he is, him being a liar, him being Niall’s own tragic end. Not hearing it would’ve made trusting Liam a whole quicker and easier.

Silence continued to preside over them. When there seem to be nothing Niall would say, Liam stood up and walked towards the middle of the dark overgrowth. “ _Ithrir_ ,” he whispered, and the woods was filled with bright, shining light, dispelling the darkness and making the blurry streams of light from the canopy dim-witted stars.

The light eased up towards the canopy, revealing large, greenish, transparent pods hanging high up in the trees. Inside them were what appeared to be stationary human figures immersed in a liquid — one of which was Jade.

“Niall Horan, I think we found your friend,” said Liam.

Niall unhinged himself from his sitting position and walked beside Liam. “What is this place?”

“I think you stumbled, quite luckily, into the nest,” replied Liam.

“Nest?”

“These djinn they…” Liam paused, hesitant to continue. He cleared his throat. “They don’t usually…eat their prey immediately. To keep them fresh they place them in pods such as these ones. And by the looks of it, your friend Jade wasn’t the only victim. There were many more before her.”

Niall felt fidgety. “Can you get them down?”

“Sure.” Liam smiled, seemingly pleased that Niall was talking to him. “ _Derimos_.”

The pods detached from the trees and slowly drifted down to the forest floor. The liquid and the inanimate humans wobbled inside the pods. The pods suddenly burst open, as if plucking them from the tree trunks were the key, and greenish liquid oozed out, flowing and staining the snow-covered ground in murky green.

Niall ran towards Jade’s unmoving figure. He crouched beside the pod that contained her, grabbed her and pulled her close, running his hand over her temple and then on the side of her neck, feeling her pulse. “She’s hardly breathing,” said Niall.

“Here.” Liam knelt beside Niall. “Let me.”

Just as Liam was about to take Jade from Niall, he stiffened and staggered backwards. “Liam!” Niall yelled as he went to pull Liam up, but Liam was spasming uncontrollably on the ground until his eyes rolled back and he fainted.

“Finally…”

The cloaked army man from the school appeared from the trees. He was followed by the woman with binoculars, holding an electric torch up high and illuminating the canopied clearing. “I was beginning to think he had already killed you,” said the cloaked man.

“What did you do?!” yelled Niall, distress ringing in his voice. “He was trying to _save_ them!”

But the cloaked man remained poker-faced. “I’m terribly sorry for this, Mr. Horan. But I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us…”

Niall felt something prick the back of his neck and his vision began swimming, his skin feeling cold once more. And then he blacked out.


	5. Mr. Styles

**_PERRIE_ **

London.

A bustling metropolis, an ancient city that was a cesspool for the lost and forgotten, to be withered and have the life sucked away from anyone. But beneath the gloom and overcast sky, life exploded and never slept. Glass spirals and concrete buildings towered over at the financial district, smoke lingered and people hustled and dined at Soho, and tourist invigorate income as they flock through Westminster, take a first-time ride in the Tube or a double-decker, and perhaps take a worthless photo of them under the graces of good old Big Ben.

Beyond the image plastered on every poster and holiday card, the intricate system worked undercover, hidden from the normal naked eye. They—the people in that system—walked silently as ghosts, spectral eyes and legs and hands that scour every inch, every sewer, every back alley, and every skyscraper of this age-old fortress that had soldiered on for hundreds of years. And yet these phantoms remain in the mortal coil.

Much like the figure coming out of the convenience store.

Crossing the street from a nearby _7-Eleven_ , a blonde woman briskly walked past the sluggishly moving people, contorting her body to fit through the small gaps between each person while balancing two coffee cups in each hand.

She would’ve asked the secretary but Zoey Peazer had called in sick yesterday and she was forced to do the daily drill of coffee at seven-thirty on her own. Louis would’ve been grumpy all day without his morning cup.

As she entered the building, she nodded at the security at the door. “Has M come in yet?” she asked and the security shook his head.

“Not yet. Jared had called in a minute ago though. The meeting with the Prime Minister had just concluded,” said the security. “Oh, and Eleanor said to relay that you’ve got an e-mail.”

“From whom?”

The security man shrugged.

“But she said it was urgent.”

It was not often that Eleanor was secretive. She usually blabbed around like it was an exercise regimen for her well-being. Her being tight-lipped about it meant it was important and needed much attention, and based on what had been going on with the military for the past few days, she could only expect the worst.

“Alright,” the blonde tipped her cup lightly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Ms. Edwards.”

Perrie Edwards slipped into the elevator and offered the security another plain smile, holding the coffee cups close to her chest as her nails dug into them. A surge rushed inside her chest, slipping and pooling down her stomach. Suddenly she felt like ice, her head being smashed by a pneumatic press, and her stomach churned like a maelstrom in the cold Atlantic, like the butterflies in her belly had turned into a frenzy of egregious bats. 

 _Not this feeling again_ , she thought.

The elevator door closed; a tune was playing on the small speaker by the top right hand corner of the elevator. Trying to tune into it, Perrie remained focused but, alas, was betrayed by her thoughts. Her grip on the coffee cups tightened more.

“Leave me alone,” she whispered shakily.

But her late husband’s reflection persisted on the cold steel—his raven-black hair, kind hazel eyes, and tight-lipped smile—haunted her as the lift descended down for what felt like forever.

********

**_NIALL_ **

Niall woke up to the sight of the man from before sitting opposite him across a long glass table. The light fixtures were bright enough to make him squint, trying to form a proper image from his blurry vision. The man was tapping—no, _drumming_ —his fingers on the table impatiently, yet his emerald gaze bore on Niall with intensity and, ironically, calmness.

“Glad you’re awake, Mr. Horan,” said the man.

“Where am I?”

Niall remembered the events in the forest. There were pods in the trees… Liam… The shadows… And then there was those military people — the one he was talking to right now.

“That’s classified,” the man replied. “Allow me to introduce myself—”

Niall tried to get up, slamming his fists onto the glass table that shook slightly at the ferocity of his forcefulness. “I don’t give a shit—where’s Liam?!”

He shifted, the leather seat he was on gave a slight creek that echoed through the brightly lit room of gray tones and thick glass. The place looked like an asylum to Niall, and the wild-haired man in front of him looking sheepishly formal despite the firm tone of voice was the warden.

Niall knew the man was trying to get to him, trying to find out his weakness, but he’s been through countless hallway bullies and sticky situations to know that acting dumb and weak would earn him a one-way trip to whatever version of hell this was going to be.

He understands that he doesn’t have a clue to what rabbit hole he fell into but letting it show would get him nowhere. He was resourceful, wasn’t he? Jade, despite labelling him as a boring old goof, said it was one of his best qualities.

“Fine don’t tell me,” said Niall.

The man smiled with a light, condescending chuckle and knocked twice onto the table before standing up and straightening his clothes. “Edward Styles, Mr. Horan. I understand you don’t trust me—”

“—not one bit—”

“—but I would like it if you would come with me for a moment. This won’t take long.”

Niall hesitated for a moment and then stood up, following Edward Styles through the glass doors. They walked through the deserted corridors, brightly lit by the fixtures overhead, and Niall hated every moment of it. For with every step that they took, he felt a little bit heavier, tired even.

Then Edward Styles stopped on his tracks.

********

**_LOUIS_ **

Jared Black sat opposite to Louis Tomlinson in the car on the way back from the meeting with the Prime Minister. Louis had been silent since the meeting had adjourned, his thoughts elsewhere whenever Jared tried to get his attention.

These days, Louis had become the solemnest leader he had ever seen. He barely laughed anymore; the shadows under his eyes were alarmingly getting darker. Louis had been getting into a lot of mood swings lately as well, shouting angrily one minute and then crying silently inside the bathroom on the next.

“M,” Jared tried again, his fingers fidgeting. “We need to discuss the security for your visit to Holmes Chapel next month—”

“I’m going alone,” replied Louis, staring blankly out the window.

“But, sir—”

“ _Agent Black_ ,” snapped Louis, “I’ve told you a million times: I’m going alone or I’m not going at all. I’m not going to squander away the department’s budget on a one-day visit. I am more than capable of protecting myself. I was an agent before I became the disgusting poster boy for the Secret Service.”

But Jared pressed on, “You are an invaluable asset to this country and—”

“ _Enough_ ,” said Louis. “I’m not saying another word on it.”

“You’re not the only one who cared about Harry, you know.”

Louis stared at him, wide-eyed. “Agent Black, you are _dangerously_ overstepping the line.”

“I’m not overstepping any line, Louis,” challenged Jared.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have saved your life,” said Louis bitterly. “I should’ve just let you die.”

“Another mistake you have to live with, I guess.”

“ _Another_ mistake?”

Jared sighed. “Look, I’m forever grateful that you chose to save my life when everyone else thought I was already dead.” He frowned and looked at Louis. “But I’m not just gonna stand behind you and watch you destroy yourself without doing anything about it.”

“I’m not gonna destroy myself,” muttered Louis.

The city around them was breezing fast, a blur of the moment. The overcast sky hovered with much foreboding. But everything had already been gloomy to Louis ever since that day. Memories of it visit his mind often but after four years, it doesn’t hurt as much as he’s already numb because of the pain.

Every time they wander along, all he felt was being hollow. It’s something that hurts more than burns or battle scars, a never ending reminder that twists the very fabric of his being, and every single time he has to remain steadfast and strong. It was a lot to ask but he had to do it.

Jared shifted from his seat and glanced out the window: The Secret Service headquarters was in the distance; beyond the bridge and cold, icy river stood Louis’ castle looming over the riverbank—his domain, aptly named the Citadel, that was the fortress of protection has now since been haunted by the ghosts of the past.

They weren’t real but they can be…sometimes.

“It’s cruel that you keep this all to yourself.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t ask Perrie for help, she’s in the same spot as I am…” Louis’ lips quivered, an irony between his power and his fears. “And I most certainly don’t want to let you deal with my personal issues.”

“You wound me, M.” Jared smiled, fingers still fidgeting, and trying to grasp the situation and pummel it into submission. “I still care, you know.”

Louis wanted to say something witty — like maybe how terribly flattered he was at how empathetic Jared was, or something like that — but instead his eyes caught onto Jared’s dark brown ones and the agent’s stare lingered and crept its way through his skin.

Does Jared really care? Or maybe he’s just concerned how the head of the Secret Service was emotionally spiraling downwards?

“He made you promise again, didn’t he?” asked Louis.

“I’m a savant of promises, M,” answered Jared. “But promise or no promise, you’ve become my responsibility. My life’s service is for you, whether you like it or not.”

“You’re not a knight, Jared.”

“But you need one…and I _am_ one. You’ve been a rook, a bishop, and now you’re king. Harry and I will always be knights, and it’s our duty to serve you and this country.”

“ _Jesus_ , Jared,” groaned Louis, running his fingers through his hair. Maybe Jared should have the crown instead of him. “Don’t get so choked up. This isn’t a _fucking_ chess match.”

“Harry made me promise to protect you, yes,” said Jared. “And it would be a great disdain if I fail on that promise. He wanted you to live, even without him by your side, Louis. This isn’t living—this is agonizing suicide.”

The car stopped. Through their tango-filled conversation, the short minutes had disappeared. It felt like they talked for ages and yet Louis was still unconvinced of what Jared was saying. Grabbing his sling bag, Louis stepped out of the car and then paused. He turned back just as Jared was climbing out.

“Alright,” said Louis.

Jared’s eyebrows furrowed. “Alright…what?”

“Two escorts to Holmes Chapel, one being you. No more, no less.”

“I appreciate that, Louis.”

Louis nodded and strutted into the building. Jared was always truthful on everything he had ever said; always blatant and frankly honest, and Louis appreciated that just the same. But he will never understand completely why the darkness was still eating him up, why he couldn’t escape its grasp no matter how hard he struggled to break free.

Louis didn’t manage to hear what Eleanor was talking about as they went down the elevator, his thoughts elsewhere once more.

********

**_NIALL_ **

****

There was a hanging tension in the air as Edward Styles stood motionless in front of two wide, opaque glass doors. Niall could feel Liam’s powers lingering inside him and his senses were still heightened; he knew something was happening in one way or another. As Styles reached for the door and pushed it inward, Niall took a sharp, low intake of breath, muscles coiling and ready defend himself for whatever may jump out through the door.

The stone gray room was empty, except for some dashboard-like equipment that had blinking lights and a slow, steady monitor with fuzzy, wavy lines progressively moving across the screen. Beyond the expanse of space, on the north wall, was a thick glass that has light shining brightly from the next room. As they moved further in, the next room became more visible and Niall felt a pang in his heart at what he saw.

“Liam!” he shouted, running towards the glass pane.

The young sorcerer was kneeling on the floor, head bowed, with his garments torn and tarnished, wrists brandished with metal cuffs that were connected to cable wires that were attached to the four sides of the walls in the next room.

A single light beamed from above over Liam’s static body, though the slight flux of his chest was apparent, his breathing labored and heavy. Velvety cherry-red stains veined across Liam’s skin, across his slightly shadow-infested face, and dark bruises formed on his shoulders and thighs. Yet Niall could still feel the same powerful aura he felt from him in the forest while Liam destroyed those creatures, flickering invisibly in the air like dancing orange flames that rose and snaked high and afar.

“We needed to contain him,” said Styles, moving closer to the glass and standing beside Niall. “He was trying to destroy everything, all in the hopes of finding _you_.”

Niall turned his head towards Styles, eyes fierce and meeting with the same ferocity the gaze of the man beside him. “It makes me wonder,” muttered Styles, “what makes you important that he would risk his life for you. Liam Payne is a selfish trickster and a war-monger, yet he becomes a different person whenever it’s you who’s involved.”

Styles leaned closer, and Niall could feel his smug smile on his skin. “Tell me, Mr. Horan, what makes you so _special_?”

“Niall…” the low, rumbling voice echoed through the small speakerphones. It was Liam’s voice, almost fearful and almost laced with wanting and needing. Then, in the next room, Liam slowly raised his head. Scars slashed across his face but were gradually healing up, skin threading across the cuts like it was being sewn back together. Liam’s eyes were bright, golden sunsets in contrast with his deep black pupils that dilated to and fro.

“Oh look, he’s awake,” Styles amusingly remarked.

Niall felt a hand snake over his shoulder and he watched as Liam’s weakened expression shift into a vicious one, muscles coiling and body quickly springing towards the glass wall until the cords that tied him up strained and pulled him backwards into the center of the room.

A surge of bluish electricity rushed through the wires and zapped Liam into kneeling back onto the floor. Niall could feel his body shaking, not wanting to see what was in front of him but unable to do so. Frozen in place, Liam screamed but tried to fight.

“Don’t you touch him!” growled Liam. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare touch him, you slobbering faggot!”

“Don’t worry,” Niall heard Styles chuckle, “I’ll take good care of him…”

Liam lashed out once more, electricity trickled down the wires to his body but, alas, the current appeared to have no effect on his anymore; eyes gone dark as galactic obsidian, runes started appearing all over his skin—ancient, archaic writings that curled and twisted like veins and roots. The room began to quake, fixtures overhead rattling. Niall could feel the overwhelming presence of Liam’s aura taking over him and, judging by the tight grip Styles had on his shoulder, the smugness written over his face must have disappeared.

“Contain this—goddammit!” hissed Styles to someone.

The intercom replied. “ _Sir, the shocks are at maximum capacity—we can’t up the voltage—”_

“NO!” roared Styles. “SEND IN THE SQUAD, PINNOCK—WE NEED TO CONTAIN THIS!—WE NEED TO—”

Then everything came to a halt, time had become frozen and the silence in the vacuum was deafening. Niall could hear the blood gushing through his veins, the _thump, thump, thump_ that his heart made, and the slick slosh of saliva down his throat—a single moment was stretched into a small forever. Everything around him, every detail seemed clear for a moment, and then the second later Styles was blasted from beside him to the farthest wall.

Edward Styles groaned as he fought to stand up but he slumped backwards onto the ground, perhaps having broken a few bones.

Niall glanced back to look at Liam on the next room but he was standing in front of him, clothes torn, eyes black and mad, and the runes over his skin glowed red as heat steamed off of them. It was the moment he was genuinely scared for his life of what Liam could do to him. Niall could feel the rage that burned inside out from Liam, the gravity both compelling and crushing.

“ _Go_ ,” said Liam.

Niall wanted to protest, wanted to ask him something — was he alright? He wanted to run but he wanted to stay; there was a complication inside of him that was taunting him. Niall was asking himself why he cared so much. He hardly knew Liam: a debt to him on saving his life and that of Jade’s was hardly grounds for him to have conflicting emotions about the person.

Lips parting slowly and words hardly pouring out, a sharp intake of breath escaped Niall instead of a sentence; his eyes closed and his body took in the feeling. A soft, burning warmth spread from his head and rushed down his body as Liam pressed a kiss onto his forehead. The mark on his hand prickled and itched, and the heat that waned inside of him heightened again like oxygen being fed to the flames: very pore of his skin opened up and Niall felt light as he was before.

He opened his eyes and Liam was still there, though his eyes were brown once again — kind and warm like a muddy pool but exactly as mysterious as a dark, cloudy sky.

“Jade Thirwall is back in Castleton,” said Liam. “She along with her mother has been worried sick about you. Niall Horan, you should go home.”

“What…what about you?” asked Niall.

Liam smiled and inched his face closer to Niall’s. “I find your concern very pleasant, Niall Horan. However, your feelings would be dealt with appropriately later in the future.”

Niall’s cheeks turned pink. “ _Dealt with_?”

“Such innocence, Niall Horan,” Liam laughed. “I’ll be sure to show what I mean when we meet again. But for now, I leave you to yourself. Take care.”

“Wait—!”

But Liam had already vanished, teleported god knows where. Niall stared blankly at the room, Liam’s voice still ringing in his ears and his lips still burning through his skin. He didn’t know what to feel except be mesmerized by him and be wary of the growing feeling inside of him. He couldn’t call it anything yet, that was his conclusion.

Right now what he had to do was get out of the place and head back home. He didn’t know how long he was stuck there and Niall wasn’t waiting another day to find out. He wanted to see Jade again, make sure she’s alright, tell both her and her mother that _he_ was alright. And of course he’s gonna tell them about Liam—for _sure_ he was telling them about Liam.

With Styles still lying unconscious on the floor, Niall exited the room in silence.


	6. The Sorcerer's Vow

**_JADE_ **

Standing under the snow at two in the afternoon, Jade felt the snowflakes flutter and melt onto her rose-stained cheeks. Niall hasn’t arrived yet and she was starting to worry.

“Jade,” Mrs. Thirlwall appeared beside her, knitted wrappings coiled around her neck and trailing down to her waist. “The snow won’t tell you anything.”

“Not unless I whisper to them,” replied Jade. “They could find Niall for me.”

Mrs. Thirlwall smiled. “He’s not a child, Jade. We placed him on this trial so we could see how much his potential is. Trust that he will push through.”

A snowflake landed on Jade’s palm; it slowly melted and then reformed again, spiraling upwards and dancing in the frigid air. “I could’ve easily destroyed that _djinn_. One flick of my magic and it would’ve shattered that demon into a million pieces.”

Her mother turned to Jade, frowning. “We have been through this. It was the only way that the trial wouldn’t be so obvious.”

“And then that _sorcerer_ came along,” Jade scowled.

Mrs. Thirlwall remained calm. “Liam Payne was an unexpected but welcome deviation. Niall’s experience with _our_ magic would be easier now that he’s learned a thing or two with that sorcerer.”

“He _branded_ Niall!”

“A mere symbolic contract,” Mrs. Thirlwall brushed off. “The Mage’s Bane isn’t something we should be worried about. Niall’s fortunate to have the protection of someone as powerful as Liam.”

Jade hissed at the statement.

After a deep sigh, Mrs. Thirlwall gave up trying to appease her daughter and patted Jade on the shoulder. “But enough of that. Come, help me prepare dinner. Niall will be hungry when he gets home.”

The wind blew fiercely, casting their long brown hairs into a frenzy, and then died down; the graceful pirouette of the snowflakes resumed.

“ _Rivos serte viramir_ ,” whispered Jade the words like a prayer, like a wish to the gale. _Seek for me the lost_.

“Let’s get back in Jade,” said her mother. “And stop chanting _spells_ in the open, someone might see you—or hear you.”

“No one’s gonna hear me, mother.”

Jade closed the door behind her, unable to see the figure lingering in the shadows of the snow-covered trees.

*********

**_NIALL_ **

It was easy enough to find a bus back to Castleton. Niall watched through the window of a bus seat he shared with an old woman who smelled like jasmines: The snow was starting to build up on the highway, steam rolling upwards in billowing clouds as cars and trucks rushed past the thinly-snowed road. The sun was nowhere to be found in the sky and the outside was slowly turning dark.

“You’re very young to have tattoos,” said the old woman, glancing at the mark that swirled around the back of Niall’s hand. Her accent was strange, like it wasn’t British at all.

“It’s a burn, actually,” replied Niall. “When I was little I tried putting my hand on one of those steel branding things. Turns out it was still hot.”

Niall can’t believe he just lied about it just like that. He didn’t understand how he came up with that story, it just came out of him like it was real. Maybe it was the mark itself? No, that’s impossible.

“It must be very old branding iron,” said the old woman. “There’s text here,” she pointed at the strange alphabet that encircled the runes, “that looks very much like Sumerian.”

“Sumerian?”

The old woman nodded. “They were once a very old civilization in the Fertile Crescent—in Mesopotamia. That’s in the Middle East.”

“So it’s like Arabic?” queried Niall. “I’ve read about that in school.”

“Older than Arabic,” answered the old woman. “They were one of the oldest civilizations in the world. We don’t know much about them except from whatever is found from old ruins.”

“Wow, you know a lot,” said Niall.

The old woman laughed, batting her hand at Niall. “Dear, how silly of me! I haven’t even introduced myself!” She adjusted her glasses and then smiled. “I’m professor Beverly Kang. I’m an archeologist. I also teach part-time at Oxford.”

“Now that’s doubly impressive!” cited Niall with a grin.

The bus slowly came to a halt and the lady professor stood up, clutching her bag tightly as if to use it as a shield against the icy wind. “Well, this is my stop…um?”

“It’s Niall,” said Niall. “My name’s Niall Horan.”

There was a gleam in the lady professor’s eyes as she smiled. “It has been very nice meeting you, Niall Horan. You should look into those markings on your hand there,” she pointed at the runes on the back of Niall’s hand, her voice full of intrigue. “You never know what you will find.”

After she had left and Niall was alone in the bus seat, he couldn’t stop staring at the swirling runes on his hand. He couldn’t stop thinking of the person who gave it to him either.

*********

**_LOUIS_ **

“Well, that _is_ unfortunate…”

Louis stood at the helm of a long, glass obsidian table with each side packed with department heads, generals, and secretaries. At the other end, Edward Styles was sitting on a wheelchair with his left arm in a cast. There was nothing but shallow whispers around until Louis cleared his throat, his blue eyes piercing like sharp ice.

“You weren’t tasked to do anything else except respond to these kinds of circumstances,” said Louis fiercely. “And you still _fail_? Your _job_ was to contain these beings and protect innocent lives!”

He loudly slammed a thick folder onto the glass table.

“Two—you held _two_ civilians against their will in your facility and then let a _sorcerer_ —or whatever the _fuck_ he is—escape your custody. WHAT. THE FUCK. WERE YOU DOING?!”

“I was merely testing the limits of his powers… _sir_ ,” replied Styles. “Somehow it got out of hand.”

Louis’ nostrils flared. “Got _out of hand_?! Liam Payne blew up an entire building floor! Now we’ve got the media—and not to mention the _fucking_ U.N.—breathing down our necks, all wanting to know if there’s a terrorist on the loose!”

Styles unharmed hand slowly curled into a ball. “ _Sir_ —”

Louis held up his hand.

“I don’t want to hear more _excuses_. Your division is now under temporary suspension for a month. Whatever decisions that will come after will be decided by the Prime Minister herself. To be honest, Minogue is less forgiving than I am, and even I won’t be escaping her wrath.”

He sat back down, rubbing his temple. “You are all dismissed.”

As the people left and Louis was left alone in the room, Perrie sat down beside him. She picked up the photo of Liam Payne that was tucked into the folder. “It’s strange to see this face again.”

“A face so familiar…” Louis sighed. “This is getting the _fuck_ out of hand. I’m getting too old for this shit, Perrie.”

“You still getting a good night’s sleep?” asked Perrie. “I feel like that’s hard to come by these days. There’s an emptiness that doesn’t leave. I just lie awake sometimes until it’s morning again.”

“I still get nightmares,” replied Louis. “ _God_ , they’re so vivid.”

Perrie bit her lip. “I saw him again in the reflection in the elevator.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” said Louis exasperatedly. “When are they gonna leave us alone?”

“When we forget about them,” answered Perrie. Her fingers traced onto the photo absent-mindedly. “Oddly enough, that seems hard to do.”

Louis nodded. “Death is such a strange thing, is it not?”

*********

**_JADE_ **

Niall arrived just a few minutes after dinner was made. There were a lot of exchanges of hugs and kisses, and a lot of explanations as to what happened. Niall told them about the creepy army guy, the djinns, and, of course, Liam Payne.

Jade practically snorted to herself upon hearing that name.

After they had eaten and Niall had gone up early to get some sleep, Jade was busy fumbling around the kitchen with her mother. Working through the mess and the plates in a breeze, Mrs. Thirlwall retreated to her room as well, probably to catch up on that Korean drama she’s been so crazily hooked on since the previous month. That left Jade to take care of the trash, taking it outside to their bin by the road.

The town was quiet, the snow had stopped falling, and lamp post wouldn’t stop flickering. Jade threw away the trash and went back inside, but she stopped and turned around to face the nearby forest. “I know you’re there,” she said. “Come out.”

From the distance came out a shadowy figure, hair tousled and robe fluttering in the bitter cold air.

“I’ve come in peace,” said the shadow. “I trust you know who I am?”

“You saved my life,” replied Jade. “How could I forget that?”

“Still, you don’t trust me.”

Jade smiled. “It’s nothing personal… I hope you understand that.”

“Then I hope you understand as well that I’m not here for you but for Niall.”

“Niall owes you nothing,” Jade’s face soured. “You willingly gave those powers to him without his consent. That puts him nowhere near being indebted to you.”

The shadow shook his head. “I didn’t come here for payment. I just…wanted to know if he came home safely.”

Jade snorted. “That’s very kind of you.”

The shadow returned the retort with a chuckle. “Normally, I’m not but this time, it’s different.”

“Why would it be diff—” Jade stopped and looked the shadow in the eyes.

“Jade, I—”

Jade stared at him, wide-eyed and full of surprise; there was undeniable repulsion in her face. “You’re…disgusting!”

“There’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing,” said the shadow. “But I feel like I’m disturbing so—”

The shadow turned around, almost in a hurry, but he suddenly felt like gravity was keeping him in place; a strong force had wrapped around his body that prevented him from moving away from Jade any further.

“Look at me when you’re talking to me, Liam Payne!” hissed Jade. “Don’t walk away from a conversation unless you want to lose what you want.”

Liam turned around and the pressure around him lifted. Snow started to slowly fall again; the dancing, falling white pirouettes bordered the two of them but Liam didn’t want to fight over it, not even if he had an advantage in battle. The truth was out and the judgment was set even before the trial. The battle was lost but he had decided to plead his case even if there was only a slim chance.

“I’ll be frank,” said Jade. “I don’t want a monster like you for someone like him. I love Niall to the death, my mother and I do. He’s the brother I’ve always wanted and now you’re just gonna show up and take him from me?”

“I’m not a thief, Jade Thirlwall,” said Liam. “Nor will I hurt your brother, if that’s what you’re so afraid of.”

“If he sees the monster that you are, he’ll think twice on giving you his heart.”

“I’m not a monster,” said Liam. “And I have not come to take his heart…or his soul…or his powers. I just want to know that he’s safe.”

There was silence. The cold howl of the wind sounded in the distance. In the middle of the snowy night, underneath a flickering lamp post, Jade Thrilwall looked at Liam Payne straight in the eyes and there she saw warmth not coldness. She was taken aback, confused and bewildered. Then she understood, she finally knew.

Jade stretched out her hand towards Liam.

“Take it.”

Liam stared at her.

“Take it or lose what you want,” said Jade. “Your choice.”

Their hands locked, eyes closed, and then a strange wave of energy flowing from where they stood shook through the surroundings—the lamp post was no longer flickering but was dangerously shining brightly; snowflakes were frozen in the middle of their dance midair; and two differently-marked circles shifted underneath their shoes.

Jade’s circle was slightly smaller than Liam’s: a crescent moon was at its center encircled by seven stars; around its rim were Gaelic runes. Liam’s circle—filled with older runes and an archaic symbol of the sun in the middle—was slowly eclipsing Jade’s.

“ _Shall you take the vow, oh, Marid_?” Jade’s voice was hoarse and not her own; it shifted like an echoing sound.

Liam opened his eyes and Jade was hovering above the ground; her eyes blank and mouth agape, golden tendrils swirled around their feet and arms, and Jade continued on:

“ _Thou has travelled ceaselessly, roaming the moors and deserts, the plains and hilltops; thou has appeared through many a life time, yet now thou has clung to a mortal… But the fates have already decided, the strings entwined…_ ”

“I’m ready to take the vow,” said Liam.

“ _What doth thy hands offer_?”

“Time—my immortal time.”

The ground shook, their circles eclipsed each other and shimmered golden; the voices that spoke from Jade’s lips multiplied, chanting in various tongues the same words:

“ _The price that has been offered—Of time immortal shall be suffered—Eight are the numbered times of year—An exile from the prize you hold most dear—”_

Cold gusts of wind blew heavily as the circles under the soles of their shoes vanished, disintegrating into tiny glitters mingling with the snow. All signs of magic had disappeared, and Jade and Liam were standing face to face with a silent understanding of what was to come.

“So you’re an Oracle,” noted Liam. “Does your mother—”

“She knows,” answered Jade. She waved her hands in the air, sparkling ice revolved around her fingers. “I have more than one magical blood running through my veins—Gaelic, Mediterranean, Egyptian—and it’s hard to keep track of which power is from where.”

“And what does your magic say about my intentions?”

Jade gave him a look. “I find it curious…but it does not change my opinion of you.”

Liam chuckled. “You are hard to please, Jade Thirlwall—Oracle of Castleton, Sorceress of the Isles.”

“ _Please_ ,” Jade scowled at him, “flattery will get you nowhere, _Payne_.”

It made Liam laugh even more, holding up his hands in clear defeat. “Alright—my apologies. I’ll anger you no further and take my leave.”

“Break that vow and I _will_ kill you, Payne…” warned Jade. “I expect that you’ll leave Niall be. Now that we know what he can be capable of, we’ll be training him in our ways.”

“ _Tekel rahim ishar_ ,” said Liam solemnly. _Unless I want my days numbered_. “I promise.”

With a bow, Liam wrapped his robe around himself once again and treaded back into the trees. Jade walked back into the house. Before closing the door, she glanced back at the snowy street and watched as Liam’s shadowy cloaked figure disappeared into the forest.


	7. Liam Returns

_EIGHT YEARS LATER_

**_NIALL_ **

Loud sirens wailed and people in lab gowns whirred past each other. Chaos. Soldiers in helmets, rescuers with bloody hands, and doctors and surgeons struggling with the situation. Nurses tried to resuscitate two patients, both having been shot a few minutes before. Doctors were screaming and hospital staff were frantic as hell.

_“…we have just received a statement released by the London police and also the military about the shooting incident that happened just outside Buckingham Palace during today’s coronation of the new king…”_

The media were like hounds and foxes trailing behind the wounded and injured, and those who were shell-shocked in panic and trauma. Reporters buzzed around like flies as police officers flocked into the scene. Outside the gates of the palace, the dead had been isolated from the living, leaving only bloodstains and bullets in their wake. Yellow police tape surrounded the scene, a grievous reminder of the murder-laced desolation.

_“…police investigators have also confirmed that the wanted gunman had already committed suicide, shooting himself in the head with his own gun after killing seventeen people and critically injuring twenty-six others. We’ll bring you more information as they come…”_

Niall rushed past the crowd and into the operating room in his scrub suit; he placed his mask over his mouth and glanced at his assistant.

“What’s the status of this patient?” he asked, the people inside the operating room rummaging anything they could touch. Niall could feel the frantic air that was surrounding them.

“We have managed to stabilize his heart rate a few minutes ago,” replied the assistant nurse. “But it became erratic again. There are two bullet cases still lodged into his stomach lining, causing internal bleeding.”

“Alright.” Niall nodded. “I’m operating on this patient immediately. During the operation there will be massive blood loss due to the punctures in the lining of the stomach. Ready some blood just in case…and get ready to deliver shock to the patient just in case his heart fails and we have the need to resuscitate him.”

His assistant nodded and Niall stretched his hand out.

“Scalpel…”

_“…what you are seeing now are live images from the scene. Police officials are now asking even the media to move away from the crime scene as special investigators attend to the scene. Meanwhile, in related news, doctors are now trying to save critically injured patients…”_

Niall Horan has been doing this for over a year now. Every moment was exactly the same: a dance between life and death, the stroke and precision of his hands the only thing that separates the patient from a certain demise. It was hard to think that eight years before he was just sixteen and thought of nothing like this for a life.

Niall couldn’t explain it himself but ever since that February adventure with Liam Payne, there have been significant changes in his life. High school went through like a breeze and so did his pre-med course in college.

Everything came easy for him—every lesson, every word, every problem felt like a simple puzzle he could give the answer to. He was top of his class, a straight A student, and the stuff of academic fantasies at the age of eighteen. Universities wanted him to study in their campuses but he declined most of them in favor for a school closer to home. Before he knew it, he was a doctor within four years tops with a license to show it.

Many of the hospital staff whisper of him having connections with the schools or that he threatened them in some way but no one could prove it. They couldn’t deny his skill in the operating room, however. Niall had become one of the best surgeons in London in such a short span of time. Some call it genius—but Niall thinks it’s magic.

He laboriously questioned Jade and her mother if they had something to do with it, maybe jinxed him in some way just to make him smarter, but they all just shook their heads and said it was all him.

“Did you make me smarter?” Niall asked candidly one Christmas dinner during his first year in med school. He was determined to find out because it was out of the ordinary and he didn’t want his success to be a fraud. “If you did, just tell me and take it away. I want to study on my own accord.”

Mrs. Thirlwall just smiled and shook her head. “We may be witches, Niall, but we have a noble way of living. This is all you, I promise.”

She took another sip of her wine and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I know it’s still a bit weird to know what we are but you have to trust us just as you have before.”

“I do trust you,” said Niall, cutting the chicken breast in half. “There are just some things that I want to do on my own. Being able to achieve something on my own will be a huge feat for me. I’m sorry if it sounded like I was doubting you but I really want to be _not_ a burden to you anymore.”

Jade frowned. The buttered vegetables were almost charred to a blackened crisp. “You’re not a burden, Ni. You never will be.”

_“…the Palace has released a statement regarding the tragedy that happened an hour ago: The devastating violence that has clouded what should have been jubilation and regality is something that should not be forgotten. As with those lives that were taken too soon, their deaths will be remembered. They shall serve as reminders of the constant battle we have with evil and that though the darkness destroys, we must never falter for the light triumphs in the end…”_

There was a loud, ominous beeping sound inside the operating room that jolted the nurses and assistants into a slight panic. The fluctuating line on the monitor was getting more and more devious by the moment but Niall drowned them all away and muttered one order after another. The metal instrument slipped through the patient’s body cavities, muscles, and organs, and everyone was holding their breath as sweat formed on their foreheads and brows.

Niall’s eyes focused on the task at hand, his fingers nimbly guided his apparatus to the goal at hand. Every second and every breath was important, and Niall was playing chess with Death for a person’s life—and he was determined not to lose.

Soon, one bullet shell was dislodged…then two…

With each _clank_ of the metal shell on the surgical pan there came slight relief among those present.

“Patient’s vitals appear to be stable,” said one nurse as Niall stitched back the tissues and muscles on the patient’s body. Hands busied after him, wiping away the blood with crimson-stained sponges.

“Alright, let’s finish up here,” said Niall.

*********

After two surgeries and a heated discussion with a man who claimed he was injured but was well enough to play _Asphalt 8_ on his smartphone (and was probably just trying to hit on the girls in the nurses’ station), Niall found himself half-awake with the television on in the staff room and a half-eaten _Subway_ sandwich on the desk.

The television droned on, not that Niall was hearing anything but muffled voices and static. There was a squeak coming from behind him and he turned his sleepy face around with both annoyance and curiosity.

“How could a guy do something like that?”

One of his surgeon friends, Ed, grabbed one of the chairs scattered in the room and sat beside him. He himself was eating, indulging himself with what appeared to be a failed attempt in making a _bibimbap_. “I mean is _everyone_ nowadays a psychopath?”

“Mostly it’s love life issues,” muttered Niall, yawning afterwards. “Or he _could_ be a psychopath just like you said. But those things are products of how this world functions now. Too much expectations, less living life to its fullest. So, yeah, basically everyone nowadays _is_ a psychopath in their own right.”

Ed smirked. He spooned another batch of disappointing imitation of Korean cuisine into his mouth and swished his spoon in the air afterwards. “Very thorough diagnosis, Dr. Horan. How do you think we shall proceed after such diagnosis?”

Niall took another bite of his sandwich, chewing it with less enthusiasm. “Well, Dr. Sheeran, there have been available treatments but in this case it had already reached a terminal stage. The only thing we can do is introduce another invasive species into the mix to counteract the spreading disease and suppress the current ideology, and rasterize it into a new one.”

“Dr. Horan, are you suggesting a mass genocide?” Ed comically widened his eyes, his mouth agape with theatrical horror. “Does this not violate you Hippocratic Oath as a physician?”

“What I meant was ideological renaissance, Dr. Sheeran, not an extinction! No need to scandalize my statement!” Niall burst into laughter and he slapped Ed on the shoulder. “But if everyone continues to be an asshole, then the human race is doomed.”

Ed faced to an imaginary camera; his voice deepened like a radio announcer. “And that is all for tonight’s episode of _Late Night with Horan and Sheeran_! Thank you for watching! Next week: PMS—A woman thing or can guys have it as well?!”

“ _Jesus_ , Ed,” Niall giggled. “No need to be sexist and racist at the same time!”

“How is _that_ racist?”

“Never mind,” said Niall. “You’d make a good news anchor though…”

“Alas, that was my dream,” Ed replied with melodramatic eyes. “But I think I’d rather dissect people to save their lives than to prance around the TV screen every night in a suit and tie.”

“Amen to that!” shouted Niall. “Preach, Ed. Preach.”

There was a heavy knock on the door and one of the nurses peeked through the crack. “I’m sorry Dr. Sheeran, Dr. Horan. I know it’s almost the end of your shift but there are two patients from a road accident that need your attention…”

Ed stood up and stretched his arms into the air. “Well, back to reality then, Niall.”

Niall smiled and nodded. “No rest for the wicked.”

Just as they walked past the door Niall felt the back of his hand prick; a tingling sensation that caused him to look down and realize that he had forgotten all about the markings.

He had forgotten all about those winter memories. Hospital pin lights and a few feet of antiseptic-smelling floor later, the memories were a blur again until they faded away just as the glow on the back of his hand.

*********

**_JARED_ **

 It was always against protocol but Jared wasn’t one to judge.

After all, reminding Louis all about protocol was a deal breaker. Though it still got to his nerves that Louis wasn’t poised and dignified but rather laid back and down-to-earth, Jared has always tried to get along with him.

He’s been around Louis so much that he calls him “Louis” too rather than his codename— _M_. In fact, Jared would be proud to say that he cared for the man already—and maybe a _little_ too much.

But he doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care if it’s six-thirty on a cold winter’s morning and they’re already dressed and about, standing in the middle of a frozen cemetery. His companion, a young new agent named Calum, was obviously having the time of his life guarding their boss in the frigidness.

“I know it’s not my right to ask but…” Calum was drumming his hands on his black slacks as they watched Louis and Perrie standing in the distance. “Who exactly is buried here?”

“Someone very close to both me and M,” replied Jared.

“His mum?”

“No,” answered Jared weakly. “The man I replaced.”

“What happened?”

Jared glanced at the duo in the distance. He knows they would be talking for a while with all the melancholy Louis could muster then Perrie would join in and god knows they won’t be even done talking when hell freezes over. Taking the first step, he looked at Calum and the lad seemed to be very interested on hearing what had happened. His eyes had the same look when Harry first came into the Secret Service.

And so he told him…

He watched as the young agents expression morphed from excitement…to shock…to horror…and then to dismay…

“How many people died?” asked Calum.

“No less than sixty,” replied Jared. “Some our best agents at that time. It was hard on Louis. Every eye was on him and they were all rooting that he would fail.”

“But…” Calum hesitated for a moment, thinking hard whether or not to continue his sentence. “I’ve asked some people in the Service… They said that there were people—people who were close to M—that died that day…”

Jared gave him a stern look. “You shouldn’t go around gossiping with other people. You’re an _agent_.”

Calum bowed his head in embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry, Agent Black, sir….”

“However, what you have heard was true.” Jared sighed and glanced at Louis and Perrie in the distance. “They did die. It scarred all of us for life.”

“Um…” Calum peeked up at Jared. “I also heard that there was this powerful sorcerer thing. That it was the reason why they’re gone. Is that also true?”

Jared nodded. “It was the strangest, the most peculiar thing I’ve ever encountered in my life. I dare not go back there—to those memories. The mere thought of what happened that night still horrifies me…”

“Did you catch the murderer?”

“No—something else happened,” said Jared grimly. “I—I don’t know how to describe it but—”

“Jared, time for us to go.”

Louis was standing in front of him.

Jared internally sighed in relief: for the first time, Louis’ eyes weren’t red nor were there any other sign that he was crying. Jared felt proud of him, he definitely was. Louis had overcome what he was struggling to face for so long and Jared believed, though it changed him, Louis would be stronger as a leader.

“Alright,” said Jared. “I’ll bring the car around, take you back to the—”

“We’ll eat on the way,” replied Louis.

Jared noticed the slight change in both Louis’ and Perrie’s demeanor. Something was up. They were in a hurry. Thoughts sparked in his mind. Today was coronation of the new king… Has something happened?

“I’ve already spoken with Eleanor,” said Perrie. “We’ll discuss things in the car, Jared. I’ll go to car ahead with Calum.”

Calum blushed. “Y-Yes, ma’am,” he stuttered, hurrying towards the car with Perrie shortly on his tail.

He appeared stiff and anxious, and Perrie just chuckled lowly as she checked her phone. They disappeared in the dense, cold fog.

“You two were talking,” cited Louis. “What was it about? You two hardly chat.”

“He asked about Harry,” answered Jared.

“And you told him?”

“You interrupted me.”

“Well…” Louis chuckled. “There’ll be plenty of time to tell him all about it in the future. He’s a very curious lad, I think. And whether or not that would help him rise through the ranks or kill him before anything good happens would depend—” Louis glanced at Jared, “—on how you will train him.”

“Is that me now?” Jared scoffed. “The trainer of heroes? I’m getting too old to train and just get disappointed in the end. I came back from the brink of death but that doesn’t make me as wise as any other man.”

“Did Harry disappoint you?” asked Louis. “He’s buried underneath the ground while you’re still here, looking down at his grave. Did his foolishness to give up his life for the sake of ours make you disappointed?”

“I’m disappointed he didn’t live his life any longer than that,” answered Jared. “But I’m not disappointed on who he became. And I’m not disappointed he loved you more than me, if that’s what’s still hanging in your mind.”

Their eyes met and Jared almost smiled upon seeing the surprised look on Louis’ face. It was red all over, his lips quivering. “I-I didn’t mean—”

“You’re a wonderful person, Louis,” murmured Jared. “I could flatter you with words but I think there’s no need for that. For the time being I _am_ in your service.”

“Huh,” Louis coughed out, still blushing. “You’re so gallant, they should knight you up.”

Jared smirked. “That would be appreciated.”

*********

**_NIALL_ **

“Ready? Delivering twenty joules and…clear!”

The fight against death—the infernal chess game continued. Niall wondered whether Death had begun holding a grudge against him for winning so many times. Yet, every time a patient sets foot in the operating room, Niall still felt he was at a disadvantage. He was playing his cards right, moving the right pieces on the board, but there was still a chance he could get beaten…

“Life is something that we often gamble with, so is with death,” Mrs. Thirlwall would say. “And we, as players, are bound by rules. Try hard as we may, we can never bend or break them and that’s what makes life so precious.”

It was a few months after his high school graduation that he discovered the Thirlwall family secret: They were witches. Naturally, people would be surprised about such a thing but Niall ultimately felt nothing. There was no shock, no nothing. He was living with witches. Okay. Period.

Niall thought there was something wrong with him but considering his short-lived rendezvous with Liam Payne, maybe nothing about magic _could_ surprise him.

Turns out they knew about the shadow as well but they never anticipated it to go berserk, or that Liam would pop out of nowhere to fetch Niall. And while Mrs. Thirlwall was discussing about that, Jade made a joyless sneer on her face.

Mrs. Thirlwall’s gift was with healing. She was intensively well-read on plants and diseases, and ever since that day when he found out their secret, Niall had found himself mesmerized in the little greenhouse he never visited on the backyard while Mrs. Thirlwall brewed her teas, potions, and herbs. It smelled like a forest caught in a salty breeze; small amounts of sunlight seeped through the foliage of the greenhouse, casting that hazy vibe.

Jade’s powers were her thoughts, and she also did fortune-telling. Now that Niall knew all about their secret, things have been floating around the house all the time, heading towards somewhere or towards Jade who summoned it. Despite Jade having said she was good at fortune-telling, Niall had never made her read his fortune. Every time he asked about it, Jade would tell him she was busy.

“Patient’s heart rate appears to have stabled…”

“You have a gift, Niall,” Mrs. Thirlwall would also often say. “It could never be taken away, and it’s something even magic could not provide.”

Niall sighed. The fight has been won again—against all odds, versus a dangerous opponent. After this he will wash his hands and that little blood splatter on his cheek, ready to go home. His tired eyes will fall close and he’ll snore loudly on his bed: a tired warrior in an endless war.

As he shucked his things into his bag, Niall felt a prick on the back of his hand. He ignored it, thinking it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him. Niall said goodbye to Ed who was doing the night shift as well that day.

“I’ll be taking in some sleep then I’ll be back here in the morning,” said Niall.

“Jeez,” Ed sneered at him. “You should give yourself a day-off sometimes. You’re not the only surgeon in this hospital, you know. We can manage while you rest.”

“No rest for the wicked, Ed. You told me that.”

Ed shook his head while he chuckled. “No rest indeed.”

When he had said his goodbyes, the silence takes over; footsteps echo on the stagnant hospital hallway and the droning sound of the air conditioning fill the air. The mark on Niall’s hand kept prickling, him not minding.

 _Just your imagination_ , he whispered, though he knew quite well that it wasn’t.

The hallway felt endless, time warping itself around him, and Niall wondered if all the blood and panic of the operating room was driving him insane little by little. The walls were as if they were closing in, a great pressure—a most tempting power—was hovering over him. Niall felt fear that he never felt for so many years and it chilled him down to the base of his spine. He suddenly felt cold like death was an avalanche that was pouring and rushing down on him—

It was magic. He experienced this magic before. But, alas, it had been blocked from memory; something he buried so long ago was clawing itself out and his stomach was a butterfly cage all over again. Every inch of his skin fizzled with an insatiable aura—a seductive power he saw and felt before.

Niall’s marked hand prickled more pronouncedly and he was forced to stop on his tracks. He took a look at it and the marking was glowing whitish-blue like a hot flame. As his eyes were mesmerized by the dazzling crackle of light, gravity forced down on him in an instant in the form of a heavy hand. Niall turned around and there he was.

The scar on his face was still there; his muddy brown eyes were filled with power, as though his soul was made of fire. Their eyes having met, there broke a smile on his lips; his hands reached down to meet with Niall’s pale fingers. Their skins brushed and Niall felt light again: And then Niall couldn’t help but smile as well.

“L-Liam…”

“Long time no see, Niall Horan,” said Liam Payne.

Then Niall pulled him close and hugged him. His heart was beating fast but he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to know why either. Liam was both soft and hard at the same time, and he felt warm that Niall didn’t even want to let go—Liam’s power, his aura, was addicting.

There was an insatiable thirst that got caught up in his throat; he felt more and more in a trance, not knowing what his body was doing. His hands ran down Liam’s arms…their fingers intertwined…then they went up Liam’s chest. Niall glanced up at Liam and felt a sudden pull; his hands were shaking as he flung them around Liam’s neck, pulling the sorcerer intimately towards him—and then they kissed.

Niall felt his heart race, a chill running down his spine as Liam pinned him against the wall. In the madness of it all, Niall could feel himself heating up, lost and unquestioning to what he was doing. He deepened the kiss, tugging on Liam’s unkempt hair and making him growl. Liam started kissing his neck, sneaking love bites onto his pale skin and licking his collar bone, making him moan.

“L-Li…L-Liam…”

But then, the memories of their encounter with Edward Styles sparked something inside of Niall. He remembered how Liam left him without an explanation, without _anything_ , and as if an enchantment had just been broken, Niall realized what he was doing and he quickly pulled away and let go, putting some distance into them once more. He was blushing madly, panting until the nerves came down from their high; the sparks were fading but was slowly caving him in.

Silence was what followed. Niall’s eyes couldn’t meet with Liam’s, hands and fingers fidgeting like a nervous wreck.

“Niall Horan…” Liam’s voice was deep and thoughtful.

“I’m sorry…” said Niall, dazed. “I-I don’t know what got over me I—”

When Niall decided to look up though, Liam was keenly watching something on his hand. There was a frown on Liam’s face, and when he realized that Niall was looking at him, he shook the expression off and beamed a smile.

“Didn’t know you liked rings,” commented Liam.

“It’s…um…” Niall sighed. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Niall watched Liam’s smile go unchanged. He couldn’t understand why he suddenly felt guilty that he had the ring. He never did…until now. Even if the trance had gone away, Liam’s gravity was still pulling at him.

“Oh.” Liam nodded slowly. “So you’re…uh…”

Niall bit his lip. _Fuck, what just happened there?_

There was silence again and Niall wondered where his next words would culminate into. He could still taste Liam in his mouth, he could still feel the madness that momentarily rushed through his veins. Then he wished not to tell the truth—tell Liam a lie. But the silver band on his finger was glaring at their middle, separating and erasing what might have been.

But Liam left him, disappeared without a trace. Niall was feeling conflicted on what he had for Liam—was it wanting or betrayal? He didn’t know. He wants to know but he just could get a grip on it. So, he told the tale of the silver band and hoped the answer to the conflict in his head was the end of his sentence.

“Yeah. I’m getting married.”


	8. Blood and Fire

**_LIAM_ **

He was _tricked_.

The thoughts rushed through him like a heavy slap on the face. Blindsided and devoured by previously unknown feelings, Liam’s eyes burned at the silver band that looped around Niall’s finger. His body was shaking, dark convictions lingered in his head like a blackened miasma.

Clouded and unaware, a shadow zipped past him and he realized it too late—too long before he remembered why he came.

_CRASH!!_

The crashing sound of broken glass filled the hall. Out of reflex, he quickly grabbed Niall by the arm and pulled him aside. They slipped into an empty ward and just as Niall was about to protest, Liam held his hand over his mouth.

“ _Shhh_ ,” he hissed. “Something’s coming.”

Heavy footsteps shook the ground; Liam could feel Niall shiver beside him—it was starting to get cold. Liam grabbed both of Niall’s hands and leaned towards them, his lips barely grazing Niall’s skin. He whispered something in a strange language and Niall gasped.

“You remember this feeling, don’t you?” whispered Liam. “It’s _my_ magic, remember that, Niall Horan? It feels warm, doesn’t it?”

They caught each other’s gaze; no words came out but it was like they were speaking with each other. With those blue, blue eyes that Niall had, it was fairly tempting enough for Liam to just snap his finger and erase everything that has happened in the last eight years that he stayed away. He could easily make Niall forget he was ever engaged to someone and take him for his own—but he can’t; no matter how much he wanted to, for him Niall’s choices were absolute.

Even that rough entanglement that they had in the hallway meant nothing if Niall chose to forget about it.

It was silly that someone as powerful as he was would bow down to the whims of a mortal. Liam couldn’t explain it either but Niall was either the bane of all his powers or the elixir of his strength. He wanted to ask someone, maybe Niall, why he had to fall this hard.

It was silly; it was weak; and yet being with Niall, he never felt more alive. There was nothing more Liam could ever want in the world but him.

As he held Niall’s hand, there was nothing else he wanted than to just lean in close and remember just how he tasted, how it felt, and how much is there to this feeling that was welling inside him.

The footsteps abruptly stopped and Liam peeked through the small glass pane on the door. The hallway lights flickered rapidly but the shadow was clear as the light of day. A dark enormous creature walking on four legs stood outside the room: its throat rumbled with a growl, soot was falling off of its body like dead skin, its four yellow eyes swiveled around, and its mouth was like a mask cracked in two with blood dripping down its spiky edges. Its head was wobbling from side to side, trying to pick something up from the air around it. Liam froze—it was trying to sense them.

He glanced at Niall who looked like he was at a loss, offered him a smile, and then started with his incantation:

“ _Durus verim andus velis ento venlo abrenum. Trinto halar beinto sen risdum untenum verim abrenum ento, seris pondes halar mintro_.”

There was a loud _bang_ in the distance and the creature took flight, rushing towards the sound speedily. Once everything was silent once more, Liam let go of Niall and slowly opened the door.

“What was that thing?” asked Niall. He watched as Liam knelt down on the floor with one knee and ran his fingers over the blackened tiles that were cracked, almost incinerated. “Was is…was it like those things in the forest?”

Liam shook his head and then smiled. “Surprised you still remember that.”

Waving his hand over the settled black dust on the floor, he continued, “No, this one’s a _lesser_ djinn — a remnant. It seems to have been attracted by the agonies of those from the shooting—”

“Okay, okay, uh, too much information,” said Niall, holding up his hands. “Just-just…slow down.”

“Niall Horan, I could explain it to you all you want,” Liam grabbed Niall’s hand again, “but right now, I have to get you somewhere safe.”

Before Liam could make the jump, a thin, high-pitched sound whistled through the air; Niall crouched down with his hands covering his ears. There was a bright light and the nearby window blasted away, glass fragments scattering and hurling towards the two of them. Liam waved his hand and, like an invisible barrier, the glass shards disintegrated into dust as it got near them. He muttered another incantation and the glass dust floated in the air, awaiting his command.

The creature clawed its way into the room; Liam shouted furiously and the millions of glass fragments hurled speedily towards it, cutting through its dark exterior like little razor blades. Black soot scattered everywhere, and the remnant howled and charged towards them.

“ _Andus biento solaris_ ,” Liam chanted, and his body glowed heavily with flames. _Fire be my enduring armor_.

He stretched his right hand and it glowed bright crimson, tongues of reddish flames licking his skin but not burning him. The remnant burst into flames but it didn’t seem to mind or feel the fire that enveloped it, continuing to rage towards Liam and Niall.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Liam cursed.

The flames on his hand quickly extinguished and he wrapped his arm around Niall. The blonde beside him flinched, his eyes betraying to him that distrusting look. Liam sighed and glanced at the creature rampaging at them; he whispered something and it began to slow down until it was sluggishly moving.

“We have to _go_ ,” said Liam to Niall. “You have to trust me on this.”

“You came and left me eight years ago,” replied Niall. “I kept watching this stupid mark you left on my hand,” he raised his brandished hand, “and I kept wondering if you’d ever come back…but you never did—”

The remnant was starting to move faster again, the spell losing its strength.

“Niall Horan, I have no _time_ to explain myself right now,” insisted Liam.

Niall sneered at him. “A _powerful_ sorcerer like yourself lacking time?”

“Even power has its limitations, Niall Horan.” Liam pulled Niall closer; he felt him stiffen, heard his slight sharp intake of breath. “Even someone like me…can’t get everything he wants.”

With a great roar, the remnant hurled itself at them, and Liam held on tight to Niall and teleported: their bodies squeezed into a finite space, warping and flashing between two places. Before they could completely get away, however, Liam felt something sting on his back and he lost his focus.

Niall screamed as they were hurled into darkness, the pull and push of magic bouncing them around through the contorting space. Liam could feel the rush of something warm gushing on his back; Niall’s screams were fading and muffled.

They suddenly crashed onto the ground and Niall gave a loud groan. He quickly got up and knelt down at Liam. However Liam couldn’t hear what he was saying—he was fading…fading… _fading_ …

*********

**_PERRIE_ **

When they arrived at the scene, Edward Styles was already down on one knee, examining the black soot from the hospital floor. The meeting with the Prime Minister was still ongoing when there was a call saying that a hospital near Westminster has just been attacked by an unknown creature. Perrie had slipped from the meeting and called Leigh-Anne at once.

Leigh-Anne Pinnock was Edward Styles’ second-in-command at _B.E.A.S.T._ —Bureau of Extramundane Anomalies and Supernatural Territories—and the only woman who can talk down on Styles.

Dark skinned with a cold stare, she had always worn a dirty white coat that made her look like a lab scientist and a pair of metal rods were usually dangling along her waist.

But as she surveyed the premises of the hospital along with some agents, Leigh-Anne rocked a multi-colored scarf over her tight, black leather overall suit. Her heavy heels _click-clack_ ed on the pavement as she greeted and shook hands with Perrie.

“Mr. Styles is expecting you inside.”

Perrie nodded and walked with her into the hospital. “Care to explain to me what happened here, or is that Styles’ job?”

Leigh-Anne exchanged with her a slight smirk. “There’s a thin line between his and my job,” she said. “But since you’re insisting: we detected an unusual amount of aether activity in the area ever since the shooting earlier today. Plus, there’s this…” She handed to Perrie a pair of monochrome photos. “It’s Payne, and he’s got that boy from eight years ago with him.”

“They’re partners?” asked Perrie, squinting at the photographs.

“No, we believe that’s not the case.” Leigh-Anne gave Perrie a brown folder. “Dr. Niall Horan works for this hospital. He was on-call this morning because of the shooting incident. Dr. Horan’s one of the best surgeons to have taken residence here. Apparently he had no idea Payne was stalking him already… That is until the creature showed up.”

“Creature?”

*********

**_NIALL_ **

Jade was still reluctant when Mrs. Thirlwall and Niall carried Liam into the bedroom. She going on about not owing anything to Liam but Mrs. Thirlwall, perhaps wanting enough of the whining and some quiet instead, hissed at her and Jade shut up with a small grumble.

Mrs. Thirlwall had Niall make Liam lay on his side so she could see the cause of the pain. She lifted up his shirt and a large mass of black was creeping on his skin; she cursed and asked Jade to grab some things from the apothecary room in the greenhouse. There was a slight displeased look on Jade’s face but she went anyway.

“Anything I could do to help?” asked Niall, his eyes glancing at Liam every time he groaned.

Mrs. Thirlwall shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ve got this. He’ll be fine.”

“But I want to help—”

“You’ve done the best you can to help, Niall,” said Mrs. Thirlwall. “Let me take it from here.”

“But I’m a doctor!” protested Niall, tears started forming in his eyes. “I-I can help! Just let me help him get better—”

“Niall…” Mrs. Thirlwall stood up calmly and Niall instinctively backed away. She held his hands and gazed over him. “Listen to me: you are a wonderful doctor. You’ve saved so many lives because of your talent and kindness. But this is _magic_ and as much as I want you to help, you’re not ready to handle healing magic yet. You’ve barely learned to use your powers—powers that, I suppose, came from him.”

Mrs. Thirlwall turned to Liam’s shivering figure on the bed. “Let me do this, Niall. I promise you, he’ll be fine. Okay?”

Niall nodded. “Okay.”

The door downstairs went _thud, thud, thud_ and Jade came back into the room with a basket full of ointment and herb jars that were filled with leaves that swam fluidly in oil; the smell wafted into the room like a harbinger of death.

“There’s someone at the door,” said Jade. She wrestled the basket onto the study table by the window and peered down to the lawn. “Oho, it’s your boyfriend, Niall.”

“What?” Niall’s eyes widened.

“The news spreads fast,” said Mrs. Thirlwall. “After the shooting incident, now the hospital… This has been a very bad day. He’s probably been very worried.”

The thing to know about Niall’s fiancé is that he’s this mysterious guy that came from nowhere—or at least those were the rumors when Niall met him when he was studying at the university. He was studying to be a lawyer; quick to think and much of a gentleman, they called him many names, whispered things behind his back but Niall noticed that he didn’t seem to mind.

They shared a class together during Niall’s second term at the university and soon enough, Niall was seeing him more often. Then came the four years worth of dates, and then when Niall stepped down the platform of the stage, he quickly pulled Niall to the side, away and hidden from the crowd, and knelt down on one knee and asked Niall to marry him.

Niall was so overwhelmed that he just said yes without a second thought. He didn’t regret it afterwards though. That night, he told Jade and Mrs. Thirlwall what happened, and he’s never seen Jade smile like that before—like she just claimed victory over some enemy of hers.

Opening the front door, a handsome young man with wavy hair sighed in relief upon seeing Niall. Dressed in a simple gray hoodie jacket, black skinny jeans, and leather boots, he quickly gave Niall a warm hug.

“I heard what happened at the hospital,” he said. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Ashton,” replied Niall with a shy smile.

There was something about Ashton that Niall couldn’t quite describe. Every time he was around, it was like Ashton was dispelling the darkness away. Now that he’d thought about it, Niall had always been happy around Ashton. He felt protected, the same way he felt powerful whenever Liam was close by.

“Okay, okay,” Ashton smiled. “If you say so…”

“Hey, Ashton!”

“Hello, Jade.”

Jade had her hair tied up in a ponytail. She made her way across the living room, grabbing some jars inside the cabinets and placing them in the basket she was carrying. Humming like there was no sorcerer in the bedroom upstairs being healed by her mother, Jade disappeared into the kitchen, only to reappear again quickly with two rolls of bandages.

“You seem busy,” cited Ashton; he glanced at Niall who quickly turned pink and then back at Jade. “Hope I’m not disturbing anything…”

Jade smiled fondly at him. “Not at all, Ashton. Just helping mom with her herbal medicine stuff—you know her.”

“Ah, yeah, that reminds me…” Ashton fished out a folded piece of paper from his jean’s pocket and handed it to Jade. “Mrs. Wikenzski from the office asked if you got anything for a sore throat. She’s been raspy for a few days now.”

“I’m sure mom will whip up something,” replied Jade, stuffing the paper into the basket. “I’ll deliver it to you first thing tomorrow.”

Ashton nodded and then turned to Niall. “I’ve gotta go—there’s some last minute work in the office I’ve got to finish—” He frowned, voice rather worried. “Are you sure you’re alright, Niall? You look distracted and on the edge.”

Niall tried to smile. “Tired, I guess. The ER’s been chaos ever since the shooting incident—and then there’s that other thing…”

Ashton embraced him one more time, placing a kiss on Niall’s forehead, and then smiled. “Continue saving lives, Dr. Horan. Heaven knows this world needs more people like you.”

After one last kiss on the forehead, Ashton bid goodbye and strode along the sidewalk until he disappeared from view. Niall closed the door behind him and found Jade smirking at him.

“What?”

Jade shrugged.

“ _What_?”

“Nothing.” Jade couldn’t hold back a smile. “A man in your bed and a guy at the doorstep. You’re so pretty, Ni.”

Niall blushed madly. “Shut _up_.”

But Jade was already climbing up the stairs, chuckling with every step before slipping into the bedroom with her basket once more.


	9. The Angel of Death

**_PERRIE_ **

Beyond the hallway where cracked glass and black soot were scattered all over the floor, a mass of hospital staff were huddled together, intrigued onlookers that felt the need to feed sustenance to their curiosity. But Edward Styles still knelt down on the floor, scooping up samples of the soot and stuffing them into plastic bags.

“Why haven’t you evacuated the building?” Perrie stood in front of him but Styles did not move, apparently shutting her out. “Mr. Styles,” her tone became irritated. “May I remind you that—”

“I am well aware that Louis Tomlinson is not pleased with me, Ms. Edwards,” Styles said in his deep, baritone voice. “But ask yourself this: do _you_ have any idea what we’re dealing with?”

Perrie did not reply, her eyes darted to and fro from the blackened floor to the black-and-white picture of Niall Horan. Styles looked at her with a coy smile, handing over the bag he was carrying to Pinnock who disappeared back to the entrance.

“Oh, but you _do_ , am I right?” Styles grinned at her. “Blackpool — four years ago, yes? Your husband died there, if memory serves…”

Her expression suddenly changed; Styles expected there to be horror all over her face but Perrie’s steeled gaze had him disarmed. There was something lacking in her eyes, a depth and hollowness that could not be filled by anything. Yet, with all of Styles snide remarks, Perrie’s voice was calm and smooth.

“My husband died in service for his country,” said Perrie, slightly brandishing the silver ring around her finger as she picked at the button of her coat. “The monster that lived in that manor murdered him and most of my friends — so what is your nitpicking compared to the feeling of losing the ones you loved the most? I’ve already taken a spear through my heart, Mr. Styles, and your mockery is nothing more than an ant bite.”

Styles tried to compose himself. “I-I’m not mocking you…”

Perrie just smiled at him. “You’re nothing like him,” she said calmly, her voice dreamy. “It’s hard, I think, to live under the shadows of someone like him. Harry Styles _was_ a great man.”

“And you think I’m not?”

There flecks of anger that seeped through Styles’ words, maybe even jealousy. The more he tried to compose himself, the more the fury that boiled inside him became more clear.

“That’s the difference between you and him — he doesn’t assert himself with greatness.” Perrie pulled out her phone and tucked the brown folder into her bag; the phone went to speed-dial. “I’ll be waiting for your report tomorrow about what happened here at the hospital. I think Mr. Tomlinson would very much appreciate the hard work you’ve been doing here.”

“It’ll be my _pleasure_ ,” said Styles gratingly through his teeth.

With a smile, Perrie vacated the premises, noting that things did not go too well — for Styles, that is. She cast a glimpse on the people who stared at her through the glass doors of the hospital rooms, bewildered as to what was happening. Perrie half-expected the ghost of her husband to stare at her every time she saw her reflection, but there was nothing. When she arrived at the hospital entrance, she and Pinnock exchanged smiles and Perrie exited the grounds, getting into a black car and driving away from the scene.

*********

**_NIALL_ **

It’s been three days since Niall came back to their house in Castleton with a bloodied Liam in his arms. Every hour or so Niall would creep up to the room where Liam was and gazed at his unmoving figure on the bed. The sorcerer was sleeping soundly in one of Niall’s sweatshirts. One exposed hand was dangling from the bed, revealing the scars and burns that were healing but had left the hand shrivelled and pale. Niall moved closer, his hand unknowingly reaching for Liam’s burnt up palm.

“By all means, do not resist the temptation, Niall Horan.”

Niall quickly jerked his hand away. Liam was smiling with his eyes still closed, a low rumble emanated from his chest — he was laughing.

“I-I wasn’t—”

Liam’s eyes cracked open, his muddy brown orbs twinkling with amusement. With difficulty, Liam sat up on the bed, leaning against the headboard with a smile plastered on his lips. Like on instinct, Niall’s eyes glanced at Liam’s hands once more. The sorcerer noticed Niall’s lingering stare on his hand and tugged the sleeve further up his arm, being rewarded by Niall’s sharp gasp.

“The curse put up quite a fight,” explained Liam, tracing the brown burn marks that ran up his arm with his shrivelled finger. “If Mrs. Thirlwall had not managed to heal me up in time with her magic, I might as well be dead. But the curse had already taken its toll on my body. It will all eventually heal but I’m afraid I am scarred for life.”

Liam blankly gazed up at Niall, bearing a disturbing smile on his lips.

“I assume you have questions, Niall Horan…”

Niall stared at him in shock. “Plenty.”

Liam stretched out his burnt arm and hand, and summoned the nearest chair towards them. “Sit. Where would like to start?”

“What _are_ you?” asked Niall. “Why does Jade not…like you?”

A curved smile formed on Liam’s lips. “Ah yes, _her_. She does not approve of me — that is reasonable, considering.”

Niall shifted in his seat. “Considering?”

“I’m a _Marid_ ,” explained Liam. “A sorcerer of strange magic, of a strange language. My power, unlike the Thirlwalls’, stem not from the magical blood passed down from generation to generation but from the blood of another race of creatures. My affinity is fire, as you have clearly seen on several occasions. It is because of that blood — the ichor of entities made from fire and smoke.”

“But…you’re human, right?”

“In a way,” replied Liam, eyes wandering off to a dark corner of the room. “But seeing as there is more than one blood running through my veins, there are things that I do that don’t necessarily come close to being human.”

Niall swallowed thickly. “Y-You mean when you…” He trailed off, not wanting to say the word _eat_ because it made his stomach turn and his the hair on his skin raise.

Taking a deep breath, Liam unfurled the sleeves of his sweater and covered the burn marks on his arm. “It’s best not to remind yourself of those things, Niall Horan. Your morality would strain under the weight of thinking about those things too much.”

“But you—” Niall tried to force it out his chest “—you _ate_ that thing. You ate that monster.”

Liam watched him curiously. “Would you rather I let that demon kill you instead?”

“No — I mean, _why_ did you have to even do that?”

“It told you why, didn’t it? Consume it and have incredible powers? But did it tell you that if you even manage to kill it, they’ll just come back to life? There are only two ways to destroy a djinn — banishment and consumption. Banishing required immense power so I chose to do the latter in order to save time. Proved well when we were captured by that Edward Styles, didn’t it?”

Niall resigned to defeat but could not remove the uneasy feeling whenever memories of the trickling almost-blackened crimson all over Liam’s body in that forest grove flashed in his mind. He rummaged his thoughts for another question, a distraction from the dread that was eating him.

“What about this?” Niall held up the Mage’s Bane that was etched on the back of his hand. “What is _this_?”

“I’ve already told you what that is,” answered Liam plainly.

“You haven’t told me anything beyond what you wanted me to know,” replied Niall angrily. “I want to know if there’s anything in this _thing_ more than our contract and your protection.”

A soft smile grew on Liam’s lips. “I keep forgetting it’s been eight years, Niall Horan. No doubt Jade and Mrs. Thirlwall have told many things about magic, and I know for a fact that Jade has told you quite nefarious things about that mark I left on you skin.”

“ _Liam_ ,” said Niall warningly.

“The Mage’s Bane is as I’ve told you,” answered Liam. “It is our binding contract that gives you protection and diverts some of my powers to you. Had you any knowledge about magic when I gave you this mark, you could’ve easily defeated that djinn without my help. Delivering those punches would be the least of what you could do.”

Liam took Niall’s hand and grazed his finger over the mark. It glowed whitish blue and felt hot to Niall. “I never told you but it’s also a way for me to communicate with you,” continued Liam. “Not only does it detect djinns but also me. That’s how you found me in that hospital. If you didn’t have this mark, you would have simply passed through me like I was smoke and non-existent. And, also… it’s not a temporary blood contract.”

“I’m sorry?”

Liam hesitated, glancing again at the dark corner of the room. “It’s not a temporary contract between you and me, Niall Horan. It’s—it’s for all eternity.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Liam held tightly onto Niall’s hand. “Before you go into an outburst, consider first the fact that this is a one-sided deal.”

“And what does _that_ mean?!”

“It means I am bound to you forever but not you to me. You are at your own liberty, Niall Horan. Our contract does not bind you to the same fate as mine.”

“By _bound_ , do you mean—?”

“Servitude, subjugation, thraldom,” Liam listed. “I am forever for your cause and necessities. Revoking my vows would mean annihilation and oblivion.”

“Then at the hospital…”

Niall blushed furiously. It was one of those memories he couldn’t make himself let go. The euphoria of being close to Liam — his warmth, his addicting power. Beyond that warmth was a need that boiled inside of him, made manifest by the way Niall kissed Liam greedily in that hallway.

“Ah, yes,” Liam let go of Niall’s hand. “That wasn’t your fault, Niall Horan. It was me letting things get the best of my judgments. My contract with you has made me vulnerable to allowing my emotions well up and affect you greatly.” Liam grimaced. “Binding magic is something more personal than other forms, and thus has adverse effects on how someone feels. It _won’t_ happen again — I’m sorry.”

Silence consumed them. Liam was wrong, Niall thought. It wasn’t magic, it wasn’t some strange force that could be summoned with a snap of his finger or in the wave of his hand. What he felt when he saw Liam again was beyond the confines of spells and contracts.

“Don’t be,” Niall whispered.

And Liam heard it — Niall knew Liam heard his whisper. Their eyes met for the first time since the start of their conversation and Niall felt breathless. His eyes traced the scar on Liam’s face, towards those muddy eyes that evoked power and flames. Niall inched closer and found himself stumbling towards Liam, grabbing onto the sorcerer’s shoulders and crashing their lips together.

“Niall! We’re back!”

The voice of Mrs. Thirlwall made Niall pull away, achingly escaping Liam’s lips. Their breaths mingled, noses barely touching. Niall leaned down and kissed Liam one more time before stepping away. He glanced again at Liam’s figure sitting up on the bed before closing the door behind him.

**_LIAM_ **

“Well, that was…touching.”

A shadow from the corner of the room appeared just after Niall closed the door, hovering by the farthest window in a black hoodie and skinny jeans. The black wings of the shadow were barely visible.

“And you were moved by it?” retorted Liam.

“Oh please, I said it was touching,” answered the shadow. “I didn’t say I was deeply moved by the human’s gesture.”

Liam winced. “Does it bother you, calling Niall two different ways?”

“Does it bother _you_ that you’re completely encapsulated within your undying love for him?” The shadow stepped closer, revealing the oddly-shaped glasses that stretched over his grey eyes and the bridge of his perfectly-formed nose. “Forget about my deviating names for the boy — that’s _hardly_ a topic of conversation. Let’s talk about the deal you made with that witch.”

“Is that why you’re here? To lecture me?”

“I admit, I do find it invigorating.”

“Oh, invigorating is definitely your style,” Liam mocked. “ _Azrael_.”

Azrael bowed his head. “The Angel of Death — _not_ at your service.”

“What is it that you want?”

“You made a Sorcerer’s Vow with that witch,” said Azrael, gliding over towards Liam. “Eight years ago, if memory serves. You paid with your immortal time in exchange for her unwilling approval that would allow you to consummate your _feelings_ for the boy.”

“And let me guess, you won’t allow that as well?”

“Clearly, you don’t even care what Niall Horan is!” Azrael sounded furious. “You are tampering with celestial laws that are beyond the both of us! By allowing yourself to fall hopelessly in love with him, by _marking_ him with the Mage’s Bane, you’ve endangered him and what he was meant to fulfill!”

“I can protect him.”

“Protect him?” Azrael’s cold, grey leer seeped through his glasses. His pale fingers jabbed at the burn marks on Liam’s skin. “How can you protect him from those creatures — from the Dark Man — if you can’t even protect yourself?!”

“Is that why you’ve been hovering around him all this time?” Liam spat back. “Because you think I wouldn’t be able to protect Niall Horan? I gave up my _life_ for him — for all eternity! Do you really think I don’t know what I’m doing?!”

Azrael did not answer. He turned towards the window, his hands froze up the glass as he touched it. Liam found the silent contemplation of the angel of death highly frustrating.

“I love him, Azrael,” croaked Liam.

“Your feelings, however true and noble, are of no help to you or Niall at the moment,” said Azrael. “The enemy is on the prowl. The remnant that attacked you at the hospital was a subtle attempt to drag you out of hiding — much like the abductions here at Castleton eight years ago. The Dark Man _knows_ that Niall is your weakness, and he’s working it to his advantage.”

He withdrew his hand from the frozen window and began to slunk back into the shadows. “Love is a deep, ancient magic that only gods could fully understand. Use it incorrectly and it would spell the end of this world.”

“I’ve made mistakes before but I promise you, this time I know that he’s really the one,” said Liam.

For a moment, Liam thought he saw Azrael smile.

“I shall continue to watch him closely, Liam. For your sake and his most of all,” said Azrael. “I hope you wouldn’t mind my actions and reveries. It’s all part of the illusion after all.”

“Just don’t break his heart.”

“Oh, Liam Payne,” Azrael chuckled. “His heart was never mine to begin with. It had always been yours.”

The grey, soulless eyes of death met with the flames of Liam’s brown orbs. In the wordless exchange, Liam understood what Azrael meant though their conversation had made him weary of it. The angel of death slipped back into the darkness, consumed by the shadowy smoke that curled and festered in his wake.


	10. White Sanctuary

**_LOUIS_ **

Louis stared at the Thames beyond the window. Behind him, his office laid bare with nothing more than scarce furniture — two old couches, a coffee table, a tall bookshelf that nearly reached the ceiling — and an oak desk that curiously bore three chess pieces. The left wall opposite to the bookshelf had hundreds of clippings, photographs, and strings that criss-crossed over the collage of paper and pictures.

The door opened, Perrie walking in unceremoniously with a pile of folders around her arms. “How was the meeting?” she asked.

“Much like any other meetings with the House of Lords,” replied Louis whose focus was still on the grey waters of the Thames. “I extrapolate, they complain like moronic sheep.”

“I’ve spoken with Edward Styles,” said Perrie.

Louis turned around, the dark circles under his eyes prominent; frown lines have marked his skin and have aged him aside from the streaks of white above his sideburns. He stepped towards his desk and flicked one of the chess pieces, causing it to fall over.

“Oh?” Louis said monotonously. “And what has our _highly-esteemed_ colleague said in your chit-chat?”

“Well, he remains in a state of distasteful banters,” replied Perrie as she placed the pile of folders on the desk.

Louis picked up one of the chess pieces, examining it. “Ah, so you spoke more to Leigh-Anne instead then?”

Perrie nodded. “The sorcerer has been spotted at the hospital and he’s brought his friend along from eight years ago with him.”

Louis dropped the chess piece and turned towards the collaged wall, and stopped at a picture of Liam Payne. “Anything else?”

“The Bureau is certain that another one of those creatures that appeared in Castleton is responsible for the attack at the hospital in Westminster,” said Perrie. “Styles will send a report to me tomorrow about their findings.”

Louis smirked. “He didn’t like that, didn’t he?”

“Being ordered around? No,” replied Perrie. “He was livid.”

“We’ll worry about his tantrums another time,” droned Louis. He headed back towards his desk and straightened the chess piece that he toppled over. “Right now, we have to worry about what’s brewing. The House of Lords and even Minogue’s cabinet members are skeptical about our version of what happened in Blackpool and the dangers the inhabitant of that manor possesses.”

“Moronic sheep indeed,” said Perrie.

“They won’t sanction an operation unless we have _credible_ evidence that there is a threat,” said Louis grudgingly. “They remain adamant that the attacks of these creatures are tangential to what I’m trying to convince them of. That is why I need to have Styles with me on the next meeting this Saturday.”

“He’ll throw a fit once they discredit his findings,” said Perrie, picking up one of the chess pieces. “And how could a bunch of old men just sit there and wait for something to happen before taking action?”

“That’s why they have us,” said Louis smugly. He slumped down on his swivelling chair. “When they all start to panic like little children, Minogue relies on us to deal with the problem while she beats the grey-stricken pricks to submission.”

“And so explains these chess pieces?”

Perrie held up the one she was holding: a queen with a cut-out of her face messily taped at the tip of the chess piece. “Am I to presume that, given this bold statement, I’m your queen?”

Louis smirked. “If it would easily explain to you why I’m always keeping you close, then yes, you are my _queen_.”

Picking up another piece, Perrie chuckled. Jared Black’s picture was on the knight. “Should I be telling Jared or does he already know?”

“He doesn’t,” said Louis coldly, taking the last chess piece — a rook with Edward Styles face on it. “I don’t need him to know more than he already does.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, I’ve already lost people we both loved,” answered Louis bitterly, fingers clutching the rook tightly. “Because of my arrogance, my bishops are gone and so is my rook. I don’t want to lose my knight — not another one.”

Harry’s blank stares ghosted over Louis’ memories for a second, sending a wave of guilt and loneliness that he had just recently started to hold tightly in the reins.

Suddenly he’s back in the Blackpool manor: Perrie was lying unconsciously beside him as he tried to get up, but Louis could feel that he had broken his leg. Someone screamed and Perrie’s husband thudded onto the floor — his bishop, dead. A whirlwind gusted mightily inside the house and it shook greatly. There was another scream — then icy blue eyes stared back at Louis, another one of his bishops lifeless and gone.

“NO—NO—NOOO!” shouted the tall, tan-skinned brunette that had crouched beside his golden-haired partner. He sprang towards the black miasma at the center of the room, brandishing out a sword that fell from the wall, but before he could hack at the darkness, the brunette — Louis’ rook — crumpled to the floor and remained motionless.

Harry picked up the sword and Louis screamed out his name. He smiled knowingly at Louis and shouted something at Jared who had gotten out of the wood debris that fell over him. Jared ran towards Louis and dragged him out along with Perrie’s unconscious body. The last thing Louis remembered was Harry — the knight he loved the most — shouting and running towards the darkness, and a deep, rumbling laughter that followed.

“I should’ve castled in,” croaked Louis.

“Lou—”

“I should’ve listened to Harry. I should’ve known that it was a trap from the very beginning—”

“LOUIS!”

Snapping back to reality, Perrie was staring grimly at him. Her phone was still pressed against her ear. Without words, Louis could feel the dread seeping from the incoming words. Already drowned in sadness, the sentence that Perrie spoke sounded numb, more somber than devastating.

“M-Minogue,” said Perrie shakily. “She’s—she’s d-dead.”

*********

**_NIALL_ **

Niall Horan knew not what was happening in London.

Instead he was in the backyard, just outside of the greenhouse that was covered in vines and ferns, and reaching his hand out in the air — focusing on calling out the magic in his veins. Liam was in front of him, watching closely as a bright golden line started to form under Niall’s feet.

“Let it flow,” said Liam, excitement filling his voice. “Magic is a force that has a mind of its own. Let yourself be equal and one with it.”

“ _Wow_ ,” said Jade. “Didn’t know you were a yoga instructor. Should we do ‘downward-facing dog’ next?”

“Quiet, Jade,” said Mrs. Thirlwall. “Niall, dear, you can do it.”

It was Niall’s fault, really. The reason why everyone in the house was watching him try to conjure magic was because he talked about it during dinner — that was his mistake. He should’ve just asked Liam for some private lessons as sort of a well-earned favor. But because Niall thought he would just end up getting carnally attracted to Liam if they practiced alone together, he announced over the huge plate of lasagna. Now, Jade and Mrs. Thirwall were staring at him, waiting to get themselves disappointed by the lack of skill he had with his limited, _borrowed_ — that’s the keyword there — powers.

Niall retracted his hand and the barely etched markings on the snow were beginning to fade. He could clearly see in his peripheral the disappointment on his onlookers faces.

“I think I’ll practice some other time,” said Niall, shooting a glance at Liam.

The sorcerer didn’t understand at first, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to decipher Niall’s cryptic glance. But when he had realized what Niall was trying to say, Liam composed himself and tried to mask his brief understanding with bewilderment and a loud cough.

“Alright, next time then,” agreed Liam.

Jade nimbly dashed towards Liam, blocking him from going back to the house. “What are you doing?”

“You cannot _force_ magic out of someone,” explained Liam hotly. “He was not born with these powers and tapping into them would be difficult given that Niall has no prior experience with magic. You of all people should know that, my dearest Oracle.”

Jade whipped out her hand and started to hiss words of a strange language. But Mrs. Thirlwall barked loudly at her daughter that Jade had drawn back her already glowing hand and shook off the pink, ethereal force that surrounded her fingers and palm.

“You’re planning something,” sneered Jade lowly as she inched closer to Liam with a menacing glare. “ _Mendos kas veiere_.” _I will find out eventually_.

“ _Kas provos eren nihilos_ ,”— _I have nothing to hide_ —replied Liam with an empty smile. He tried to remain unmoved even though the weight of Jade’s powers were reverberating through his healing burnt skin. “I would not dare trespass against our deal.”

“What deal?” interjected Niall.

Jade stormed back into the house; Mrs. Thirlwall went inside the the greenhouse; and Liam headed back into his shared room with Niall who was trailing behind him. After they had crossed the threshold of the kitchen and up the stairs without any creeping Jade in sight, Niall closed the door of the bedroom behind him.

“Why do you _want_ to learn anyway?” said Liam abruptly.

“Because I don’t want to be a damsel you always get to save,” said Niall impatiently. “My scalpels and steady hands aren’t exactly the kind of things you use to battle demons and monsters.”

Liam watched Niall with curiosity. “What has brought this up?”

Niall shrugged but did not elaborate. He stretched out his hand and Liam took it. Sighing in resignation, Liam pursed his lips and watched cautiously Niall’s icy blue eyes.

“Your sweet sister is going to kill me for this,” said Liam.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” replied Niall. “Promise.”

Liam waved his hands at the windows and velvety red curtains draped themselves over the glass panes. The entire room was plunged into darkness and every noise, down to Niall’s breathing, was diluted with a strange humming melody that thrummed in Niall’s ears.

“ _Revieros Tiemos_ ,” chanted Liam softly.

The darkness was bathed in endless, edgeless white and the humming melody only vibrated stronger and faster — like a singing otherworldly choir that was standing at a distance from where Niall was. The singing was piercing through his soul, evoking emotions of happiness and longing. Memories Niall had not known he could remember were suddenly playing in his mind like a burning reel of film. As the acetate melted into nothingness and replaced once again by the dazzling white, formless voices that sounded stretched and echoing rang through with the ethereal chorale.

Then, everything stopped.

Slowly, the bright whiteness crumbled and was blown away by an invisible wind like pieces of paper, revealing a white Victorian manor in the middle of a large orchard. Niall felt the gravel crack beneath his feet, finding himself standing in the middle of a cobbled driveway beside a looming statue of a hideously disfigured human wearing long, flowing robes.

“Where—?” Niall started.

“I took the look you gave me as a sign that you wanted some place private to practice your magic,” answered Liam quickly. “This is _Rivieros Tiemos_ , the White Sanctuary. It is a place separate from the material world — and it’s also my house.”

Niall turned to Liam, confused. “Your house?”

“I prefer the solitude, Niall Horan,” replied Liam with a smile, then he grabbed Niall’s hand. “Come, I shall show you around my home before we start with your training.”

They headed down the cobbled path and the manor’s white facade turned ashen grey, basked in the fading light of the sunset beyond the top of the trees. The immense porch, made entirely of polished marble, was littered with broken armor and strange weapons Niall had never seen before. As they made it to the front door, Niall came face to face with the head of an angry dragon — which turned out to be the door knocker.

Liam grimaced as he kicked a soldier’s helmet towards the pile of armor to the left of the porch. “Pardon for the mess, I haven’t been home in months.” He pressed his hand over the dragon’s head and it glowed hot red; the door opened without a sound. “We should step inside,” added Liam. “It’s much cleaner in—”

Niall screamed as a large falcon swooped down at them. He quickly ducked but the enormous beast simply roosted onto Liam’s outstretched arm. It squawked several times, leering at Niall angrily, and then nipped at Liam’s fingers before flying off to the surrounding orchard.

“That was Everett — he has abandonment issues,” Liam smiled apologetically. “He can get in and out of the manor as he pleases but he doesn’t get along too well with being alone for long periods of time.”

“Why is that falcon so big?!” said Niall frantically, still feeling his heart racing from what he thought was his early demise.

“He was a prince once,” said Liam plainly. “Cursed for his greed and untamed anger…and tendencies of being unfaithful.”

“Must’ve pissed off one hell of a girl,” said Niall.

“No, not a woman — his own brother whom he cheated on with another man,” replied Liam with a hint of guilt. “I took pity and have been trying to find a way to lift the ancient curse cast upon him. Although, if I were to be honest, those kinds of curses — personal ones — are rarely broken.”

Niall grinned. “Ah… I didn’t know you were so generous!”

Liam glided towards Niall, inching their faces close together. Then, Liam smirked cheekily; his warm, insatiable aura prickled at Niall’s skin. “Oh, trust me, Niall Horan, I’ll definitely show you some time how _generous_ I could be.”

*********

The inside of the manor was tidier but equally interesting as the porch. While the dark wooden floor was void of debris, most of the darkly glazed surface was covered with thick rugs marked with ornate illustrations and symbols; in the middle of what Niall presumed to be the living room (if it could even be called that) was a large, circular table with clawed footing — on top of it was a pyramid-shaped rock that was supported underneath by four black orbs; hanging above in the opaque glass ceiling was a metal chandelier covered in melted candles; and two of the opposite walls that separated the living room from the rest of the manor were covered with shelves that housed not just books but containers with objects immersed in a greenish fluid, and items and knick-knacks that belonged to the same odd category as the pyramid stone in the middle of the room.

“I like collect many things from my journeys,” said Liam before Niall could even ask the question of where all of the objects in the house came from. “They are trinkets,” continued Liam. “Souvenirs, if you will, from the places I have travelled to.”

“Why?” asked Niall while he admired the large jar that contained several of a bony fish species floating in the moss-colored liquid.

“Every place has traces of magic,” answered Liam, watching keenly as Niall hesitated to touch the jar he was looking at. “These trinkets can have properties — I call them _life memories_ — from those places. Each of those life memories are unique and extremely valuable forms of magic. Some of them can be used in potions, others charms — also some can be used as payment.”

The word quickly took Niall’s curiosity. He turned around from the shelves and faced Liam, eyes bearing a glint of fascination. “Payment for what?”

“Desires, darkest dreams…” said Liam nonchalantly. He took one of the boxes on the shelf, opened it, and fished out a golden coin. “Wishes like the ones you form in your heart and cast into fountains and wells.” As the coin lay on his palm, it started to glow blue — and then the glow vanished. “This particular one is for a Middle Eastern deity known as the Wishmaker. He likes to play tricks on those who foolishly think their heart’s desires can be granted with a coin such as this.”

“So he _doesn’t_ grant wishes, despite his title?”

“He does,” said Liam. “Only there are dire consequences depending on how much that wish affects the fabric of reality.”

Niall wanted to touch the coin — it was beckoning him to reach for it and whisper his deepest desires. But the desire did not last for long when Niall heard a voice inside his head, telling him the repercussions of selfish wish-making.

“Have you used it before?” asked Niall instead, recoiling his fingers that were itching to touch the coin.

Liam shook his head, and afterwards he grinned. “My desires are beyond the mortal coil, Niall Horan.” His eyes darkened, thirst lacing through his voice. “Even if there _is_ something I want, I prefer working hard for it rather than using cheap tricks to allure and attain.”

They broke off their heated stare and proceeded to the next room.

Dark and smelled highly of burning herbs, the room had no furniture except for the large multi-colored cushions that sprawled all over the floor like giant lily pads.

“Let me guess,” said Niall. “Meditation room?”

Liam frowned. “No…actually, this is the sitting room. For guests.”

“Ah… I see.”

There was an awkward silence as they traversed past the cushions and into a large, open room with a beautiful fresco ceiling. Aside from the dark panelled floors and wooden pillars that stretched upwards and through the ceiling, the entire room was empty. The last light of the dusk seeping through the towering windows washed the room in an orange glow. Protruding from the ceiling were low-hanging industrial lighting. At the other end of the room was a small door with an odd handle shaped like the head of a raven.

Niall realized the space looked like a ballroom.

“This is where you will be having your training,” announced Liam, his brassy voice turning stiff and eloquent. “Here you will learn the basics of magic: summoning, conjuring, and defending.”

Liam snapped his fingers, and a pile of books zoomed out of nowhere and arranged themselves into a tidy stack beside the nearest window. The lights hanging from the ceiling plunged brightness into the room, and two armchairs materialized near the door they came through from.

“We won’t be doing anything for now but—” Liam grabbed several books from the neat stack and gave them to Niall “—I want you to study these. Knowing what you are doing is better than just going along with what I say.”

Niall nodded and glanced at the leathery tomes he had in his arms. They smelled musty and were rough to his touch — and they were _heavy_. But the sudden change in Liam’s demeanor stuck to his thoughts that Niall almost didn’t realize—

“Wait, are we leaving?”

“I am afraid so,” replied Liam. “The Thirlwalls would be quite upset if you and I didn’t show up at dinner. And your sister is probably getting suspicious that we’ve locked ourselves in the bedroom for far too long.”

“We’ve only been here a few minutes,” said Niall.

“Time is constant,” answered Liam. “But my little dimension here is cheating against the laws of the universe. That is to say, time moves slower here.”

Niall stared worriedly at Liam. “How much slower?”

Liam placed an arm around Niall’s shoulder. “ _Much_ slower.”

His grip around Niall’s shoulder tightened and Niall could feel the surge of Liam’s aura enveloping them. Liam chanted softly, “ _Ashia terrum_ ,” and room was plunged into darkness.

The bright lights that followed were torn into shreds like paper burnt into ashes, and the otherworldly choir receded much like the flashing memories of the past that rang through his mind. Liam let go of his shoulder and Niall remembered that he was holding a stack of books. Beneath his feet were no longer dark panels but that Persian rug he and Jade had bought from the flee market.

Outside the window, snow was falling; the streetlights were burning away the darkness of nightfall. Liam sat down on the edge of the bed and so did Niall, his mind still replaying the other world he had just seen and how he can’t wait to visit it again.

*********

**_LOUIS_ **

The funeral went fine.

It was strange how the people around them always seem to die when they least expect it — as if the enemy was waiting for them to get distracted and then strike. Louis wasn’t really paying attention to the king’s speech but rather swimming in the thoughts floating in his brain. He was still digesting every word that Edward Styles had told him the night after the Prime Minister’s death.

Images of swooping dark figures with insidious porcelain masks animated in his head. The thought of Minogue getting attacked by those creatures — _djinn_ , Styles called them — and then murdering her was enough to make his skin crawl.

“Forgive me for asking,” started Styles as he stood in front of Louis’ desk, “but—”

“You were going to ask me about the Blackpool manor?” said Louis, a darkening tired circle forming around his eyes. “Don’t you have people to look into that?”

“You _have_ seen the djinn that attacked Minogue beforehand, am I right?” Styles continued to insist his question amidst Louis’ glowering. “In the manor… They were the ones who killed—”

“I don’t have time for memorials, Mr. Styles,” said Louis. “Dead people… Monsters… Demons… Magic… Isn’t that supposed to be _your_ job — dealing with them?”

Styles watched him curiously. The dim lighting of the room cast an ominous shadows over Styles’ face. “I am not an exorcist, M,” he said. “Until you tell me what happened at the manor, I won’t be able to do anything.”

Louis didn’t reply but instead walked off from his desk and pretended to admire the Thames. Styles’ jaws clenched, his gloved fingers twitched.

“Whoever killed the Prime Minister was well-informed that you were receiving help from her regarding your planned assault on the Blackpool manor,” said Styles. “Almost as if they knew you quite well.”

“Get out,” growled Louis.

“Are you planning to let another one of your pawns die before you let me help you?” said Styles, stepping closer. “This is not the silly game you used to play so well anymore. These are not evil men with diabolical ambitions — these are demons and monsters. My hands are tied to whatever decision you make. So make one already because this castle won’t hold out for long.”

Louis turned to face him. “I can try.”

The king had stepped down from the podium and the people around the graveyard had started to stand up from their chairs. Louis remained still, waiting for the crowd to dissipate. The king and the youngest prince were the first ones to leave after a minute-long banter with a few people. Next to depart were some of the house lords, some leaning on their canes while others, still of youth, were brandishing their statures like male peacocks. There were several some who greeted Louis but he simply nodded his head in acknowledgement.

As the number of people dwindled, Louis stood up and fixed his coat. Behind him, a familiar voice cleared her throat. Louis turned around to face a woman with high cheekbones and auburn hair tied up in a bun.

“Ms. Nelson,” said Louis. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Jesy Nelson, youngest member of cabinet and one of the candidates to succeed Alexandria Minogue as prime minister, was smiling saccharinely at Louis like poison-laced honey. Even though she never dressed too exuberantly, choosing a minimalistic smart attire, Jesy radiated power. Her fingers around the cabinet members’ necks as well as Parliament had already been apparent even when Minogue was still alive.

“That is why I graced you with my presence,” said Jesy. “It felt like you were avoiding me, M. I’m starting to wonder if there’s any bad blood between you and me.”

Louis kept a straight face. “I’ve always been distant to everybody.”

A curved smile creeped on Jesy’s lips. “Well, perhaps now is not the time for you to wander off to your little world,” she said. “After the new Prime Minister gets elected—”

“You mean after _you_ get elected,” said Louis sharply.

Jesy demurely laughed at Louis’ statement. A strand of hair fell over her face and she brushed it away, unwaveringly pressing a sinister smile at Louis. “You’re flattering me too much, M. That doesn’t sound anything like you.”

“Wars and death changes your perspectives in life,” replied Louis quaintly. He kept pressing the nail of his thumb onto the flesh of his palm to keep himself from saying something salty. “I’d like to keep an open mind.”

There was a slight change in Jesy’s expression. She appeared to looking at someone in the distance. “Well, speaking of dead people and keeping an open mind…”

Louis turned around and Jared was walking towards them. His perpetually stone-cold expression was festering an aura of chills, applicable to someone who had survived death and was living afterwards. Jared stood still a few inches from Louis. Jesy cleared her throat again and Louis turned back to face her.

“I see that Black is looming like a shadow over you at all times,” said Jesy. She smiled slyly, darting her eyes back and forth between Louis and Jared. “Why, if I had a man like him around all the time, I wouldn’t be bored at all.”

Jared was about to speak, but Louis cut him off.

“Well then it’s a good thing you don’t,” replied Louis.

Jesy smiled.

“Gentlemen, I shall be seeing you around,” she said.

As Jesy walked away towards her car, Jared grabbed Louis’ arm tightly. A growl rumbled in his throat, and his eyes burned angrily at Louis.

“ _Louis_.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me that in public?” said Louis.

“I’ll call you whatever the _fuck_ I want to call you!”

“Black—”

“My name is _Jared_ — and next time you wave me at your enemies like a piece of meat, try not to do it on front of me!”

“Is that what you think?” Louis stood unmoving against Jared’s looming shadow, his gaze pressing firmly at Jared. “That you’re just my tool?”

“Why did you bring me back from the dead then?” pressed Jared.

“I didn’t bring you back from the dead, I stopped you from dying,” replied Louis. He felt offended, angry at the fact that Jared would even doubt him. “ _You_ are letting that nefarious woman’s words seep into your head. I need my gallant knight right now, Jared, so stop doubting me. We’ve been through so much already, and you _know_ that I—”

Louis looked away, feeling his cheeks warm up.

Jared stared at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Louis. “Let’s go.”

*********

**_LIAM_ **

It was nearly past two and Liam was striding out on the snowy streets of Castleton, his ancient robes flapping ceaselessly against the persistent cold wind. The lamps continued to flicker as he passed them — who knew magic could affect such mundane mortal objects? But instead of being fascinated by the flawed technologies of the human race, Liam quietly crossed the road and headed towards the forest.

“ _Ithrir_ ,” whispered Liam.

A ball of white light formed in his palm and he tossed it up in the air. It shuddered in the frigid cold and then exploded, casting brightness all over the trees. As he walked through the forest, the ball of light followed him and cast dancing woodland shadows until he reached a clearing.

A single dying tree stood at its middle, branches bare and lifeless. It was short and ancient-looking, a bony hand that had crawled out of the dirt and was trying to reach up as to pluck the stars and moon from the heavens. Behind it, way into the forest across the clearing, Liam could feel an enormous presence: a festering smell that forewarned the living and spread a bone-chilling power.

“I got your message,” said Liam to the darkness.

From the shadows of the forest trees, a tall figure materialized: his oddly-shaped rimmed glasses gleamed from the light of Liam’s glowing orb, and his leather shoes were halfway under the snow. Azrael came from behind the dead-white tree with his enormous obsidian-coated wings plunging the powdery snow it spread upon with an eerie shadow.

As he drew closer, Azrael made no intention to speak; he merely strode slowly, boots crushing the snow underneath its soles. He looked like he was about to give another one of his lectures, judging by the way he glared furiously at Liam.

“If you are not going to speak—”

“Why should I when my words clearly mean nothing to you?” snapped Azrael. He had stopped pacing in the snow; his wings slowly retracted and disappeared with glamour. “You’ve been given liberty, your freedom to traverse this world. But never — _never_ to bring them to that sanctuary!”

Liam treaded with his thoughts carefully. “He wanted to learn magic.”

“Then teach him _here_ , on this plane of existence! Surely I need not remind you the ramifications, should I?”

“No,” said Liam.

Azrael considered, but then he continued, “Maybe I should. Perhaps to _remind_ you that the last time you meddled with the universe, you’ve created this mess that this world is currently in!”

“That’s why I’m trying to _fix it_ ,” Liam gritted through his teeth.

“You’ll only make matters worse,” replied Azrael. “No more visits to the White Sanctuary for Niall. If you truly want to teach him magic—” The angel of death snapped his fingers and a barrier surrounded the clearing before it disappeared “—do it here in the clearing.”

“I might look suspicious to the Thirlwalls,” said Liam.

Azrael gave him an amused smile. “Not as suspicious as bringing Niall into an alternate dimension just to teach him magic.”

“Is that all?” Liam sounded annoyed.

“The prime minister of Britain has just been murdered,” said Azrael.

“Yes, I saw on the television the other day.”

“The Dark Man killed her.”

Liam did not answer.

“This is not some silly game you’ve played so many times before anymore,” started Azrael, staring worriedly at Liam’s blank expression. “The time will come when all of this will come to pass. You have seen it, and all this time you’ve been trying to avoid it. But, little _Marid_ , you simply cannot win.”

When Liam did not reply again, Azrael conceded and began to retreat backwards to the other side of the clearing. Eyes fixed on Liam’s pale figure underneath the undulating sphere of light, he looked like he was contemplating on something. But just before Liam could speak, the dark waves of shadows clung to Azrael’s human form and he was consumed by the festering blackness of the night.

Liam marched back to the house.


End file.
